A Christmas Craig
by MarblePlum
Summary: Mix a miserly musician named Manning, Dickens, and Degrassi, and this is what you'll get.
1. Chapter 1

Greetings and happy holidays! I kinda always wanted to do a holiday-themed fic, and since my favorite holiday is Christmas, I thought that would be the most fitting one to cover. However, rather than do a serious work, I decided to do an angst-free parody. Out of all the Christmas stories, _A Christmas Carol _is at the top of my list, not surprising since Dickens is one of my favorite all-around authors. Plus, I like the message it conveys about reevaluating who you are and helping others, peace and good will to your fellow men.

But how to mix that with Degrassi? That's the tricky part. Then I thought...well, it might be doable if I really, really exaggerated a certain character. That's when Craig Manning came to mind. Lol. I love Craig as much as the next person, and I'm a proud shipper of CrAsh, but this guy (at his worst) can be selfish. Of course, he has this other warm side, that's vulnerable and touching, and I'm choosing to focus on both for this fic. Thus, Craig reflects good ol' Ebenezer Scrooge. :) The other characters basically fit certain characteristics of the Dickens' characters, like Bob and Ms. Cratchit, Fred, Marley, Belle, the ghosts, etc. For example, I use Jimmy for Fred, because Fred's very kind and he's probably the best boyfriend you can have (which we can't always say for Craig). However, in the story he's still called Jimmy. I don't think it'll be too difficult to detect why I chose who for who, but if you're ever confused, you can leave a review saying such. Like Mr. Simpson is Mr. Fezziwig because he fits– very compassionate to his students, warm-hearted. Hopefully, you're not confused yet. The plot's similar.

If you are confused, that's where the two wonderful narrators come in. Anybody that knows me knows that I love J.T. and Toby's friendship, so rather than include them in the story, I'm letting them tell the story. There's only one narrator in the actual Dickens tale, but one of my favorite conceits they've done in the modern adaptations, including the Muppets version, is to have two narrators who are at odds over the story. It's more of a fresh twist to me. J.T. and Toby's narration is comical and goes with the parody elements, so that's why I chose them.

This is set around season six, so Craig's class has graduated, and he's made it big, and he's actually clean. He's just mean. Lol. So all the characters are around 17-18. The big change is the setting. I'm not transporting everything back to Dickens day, but I do give everything sort of an old town feel. Like more of a small town-y feel than a Toronto town-y feel, because I think that's so intricate to what Dickens was trying to say. So imagine kind of a postcard town, if you will. :)

Thanks for reading, and I hope you like it!

_A Christmas Carol_ is the property of Charles Dickens, and was published in 1834. Any similarities to the plot are done for the purpose of parody. The Degrassi characters are not mine.

****

A Christmas Craig

I. Do You Hear What I Hear?

"No, this is what I heard," says Derek, twirling a piece of coal in his slush-covered fingers. "Eighteen...count them..._eighteen_ of his ex-girlfriends got together in this secret society and snuffed him. Dude was a total player 'til the end."

Snow falls in sheets, under the glow of the street lights, neon red sign for the Dot Grill illuminating the face of their snowchick. Daphne the snowchick. They weren't too creative, and despite her faults, their school principal is still pretty hot. Danny retrieved a gold pom-pom from the Spirit Squad for her tresses, a Cheeto for the nose, and a pink apron from his mother's closet. Derek just happened to have some coal lying around the Haig house...yeah, happened.

"I heard he got smothered by his fedora," sighs Danny. "Put it on his face one night, went to sleep, never woke up."

"That's impossible," argues Derek. "How can a hat kill a guy? Someone would have to..."

"It's true, man!"

"Look...you know, take the picture, alright?"

Danny takes a deep breath, walks to the other side of the street, positions the camera in front of his eager eye. The frozen version of Hatzilakos is surrounded by a flash, picture popping out of the camera.

"First place in the jokester junior photo competition, for sure," praises Derek as they assess the picture.

They pause when they hear the crunch of snow, both boys mumbling when they see the owner of the two sets of shoes.

"What?" demands Danny.

"My hat," recognizes J.T., taking it off Danny's afro.

"You left it at our house," insists Danny. "Finders keepers."

J.T. exchanges a look with Toby, wool jackets covering their bodies.

"Really?" says J.T., grabbing the picture and grinning. "Heh, bad lighting."

J.T. returns the photograph to Danny, a deep frown across his face. Derek's expression is similarly disappointed. The Dot door swings open, releasing a strong gust of wind that blows off Daphne's twig arms. J.T. and Toby snicker, continue down the street.

"Our perfect chick!" moans Derek behind them.

"How pathetic are they?" laughs J.T., slipping on his wool, green hat.

"Did you or did you not imitate Hatzilakos, complete with breasts?" reminds Toby, shaking his head.

"That's different," waves off J.T. "We were much cooler than they are. Well, I was, anyway."

Toby shoves J.T. lightly, as they go to the steps of Degrassi Community School. Talk about different. It all looks so different during the holidays. The metallic edges of the roof glitter, the glass doors shine, no random, Internet guys are coming in looking for Friendship Club members. No, everything's at peace. The Lakehurst students must be home, snug in their beds.

"We used to enter that contest," reminds Toby.

"Yeah, but ours were classics. Catching Raditch sleep on his Swiss ball in the gym, Armstrong scratching his butt with chalk _and _leaving a mark. Those were more authentic," defends J.T.

"Feel old, I guess," confesses Toby. "We're graduating this year..."

"So?" says J.T.

"So maybe we're...I don't know, replaceable?"

"By them?" cries J.T. "Please. They don't know how to hold an audience's attention like me. They don't know how to get a point across, like you, vice president. And they certainly don't know the story of Craig Manning."

"Craig?" balks Toby. "Like _the _Craig Manning. And you do?"

"I do," insists J.T., taking off his hat and bowing to an invisible crowd.

"Tell it, then," encourages Toby.

"Like...like now?" stammers J.T. "Tobes, that'd be a very...a very long tale. Most of the night, in fact."

"Hmm, I'll just cancel all the hot dates I have," says Toby, sarcastically. "Tell it!"

"Gosh," mutters J.T. "Okay...okay, fine. I'm going to need some things."

Toby smirks, follows anyway. Truth is he _is _hoping for a hot date this year.

II.

His tennis shoe digs into the chest of a rubber chicken, Toby looking down curiously. There is always something strange on J.T.'s floor: clown wigs, itching powder, a pamphlet highlighting fetal development. Totally a normal room for any seventeen-year old boy. Toby gags briefly upon seeing the pamphlet baby's umbilical cord, sits on the bed to collect himself.

"The final touch!" says J.T., leaving his bathroom.

Toby's eyebrows rise. J.T.'s dressed in a suit with tails, black pants, and a top hat. They were from his variety show outfit, although Toby thought they kept those things in the dressing room.

"How'd you...did you steal that?" asks Toby. "Manny returned hers."

"Manny may have the dimples, but I have the mojo, mkay?" says J.T., beaming.

"Whatever," says Toby. "Why are you dressed like that?"

"For authenticity. I know your intelligent, sarcastic self won't believe me, otherwise. Plus, it's warmer than my coat and we're traveling."

"Huh?" cries Toby.

"Toby, it's 2007. We're living in a very visual age, interactive and engaging...and if I stay here, Grandma'll make us clean this room."

"Okay," says Toby, simply.

"Good," sighs J.T.

J.T. rubs his hands together, shakes his head three times, Toby figuring this for some weird actor exercise. Either that or Jay had given him some oxy again.

"Jeremiah was dead to begin with...," begins J.T.

"Wait!" interrupts Toby. "Derek and Danny were talking about that. No one knows how he died, or why. Fill me in."

"This is not going to work if you interrupt me," scolds J.T. "I'll tell you later."

"Well, I liked Joey. I mean...," complains Toby.

"Look, he's dead, because he wouldn't let us see Fancy the stripper at the bachelor party, alright?" snaps J.T. "That good enough for now?"

"Oh yeah, that blew," mumbles Toby.

J.T. jumps up and down, boxing the empty air, trying to get back into character. He hopes his best friend won't make this difficult all the way through. Every story doesn't have to be practical. Most of the good ones aren't. Then again, most of the good ones are in books, that you can read, at the library, which he tried to stay away from. Forget that. This is a good one, good enough for Toby at least.

"Jeremiah was dead to begin with. Even Caitlin Ryan can't doubt that. He was buried next to his beloved wife, Julia, and some guy that died that Tuesday. Craig Manning, poor guy, had to leave his tour in order to make the arrangements. That's when he knew, knew that Joey Jeremiah, the self-described pimp of Degrassi, was dead as you could get.

Toronto was all the better for it, because you see, Joey was a heartbreaker. Passed that down to Craig, so they said. That and Jeremiah Motors, the tightest used car lot in the area. Okay, the only car lot in the area. Being the adopted son of a failed musician, the keyboardist for the no-hit wonder the Zits, made him cold, bitter. Craig did, however, take the car lot Joey left to him, and change it into a music store. Now, this wasn't one of those feel-good music stores. You know, where they let you touch stuff, strum stuff, stroke stuff...hee."

Toby coughs, rolls his eyes.

"Rare sexual innuendo...sorry," corrects J.T., then righting himself. "No, Craig would only sell his goods to high-end buyers, like Trent Reznor or that guy in that band that nobody knows, but is in the band? As probably guessed, Craig didn't get a lot of business because of that, yet he didn't care. He was greedy, hording all those expensive goodies, lavishing in them. This earned him his neighbors' contempt. He used them to impress the ladies, to check his perfect, curly hair in their cases, to do air guitar in his cozy office. This earned him my contempt, because well, I'm not able to do any of that. Worse still, Craig cut off contact with most of his Degrassi classmates. Nobody knows exactly why. I do, and that's why this story needs to be told, to see how such a hard heart melted, how such a closed person became so open. And it all started on the most magical of nights, Christmas Eve..."

III.

"On Christmas Eve, Degrassi Street is in full holiday regalia. Fake holly is lined around the awnings of local businesses. Green and red lights hang across the windows. Candy canes are clutched by children. The smells of ham, turkey, and roast beef drift past nostrils. My descriptions become better after a semester-long class with Kwan..."

Toby nods appreciatively. He and J.T., tall top hat partly blocking his view, edge past customers carrying gift-wrapped purchases to their cars. The street is much busier than when they left it last, Derek and Danny's snowchick still erect, though it has remained armless. Nevertheless, things do feel different, more odd. It must be the magic J.T. claimed came on this night, or he's really high on E this time. The boys stall at the door of the Dot, two familiar girls scurrying past them.

"Oh, I feel for him," comments Mary. "If I lost my mom _and _my dad, then my adopted dad...I would be so lost. We've been praying for him in Friendship Club."

"Why bother?" remarks Chante. "Knew he was just faking that whole emo thing. Selfish jerk. How can you play prom with Kevin Smith watching you, and be sad? Ran away two days later! He didn't think of Joey at all then, and he doesn't now."

"Chante..."

"You saw what he's done with the lot," reminds Chante. "He's..."

The girls stop abruptly, as the temperature seems to drop, Toby pulling his coat tighter as the chilly wind crosses his face. His skin prickles, heartbeat quickening. This sudden change in the weather is startling, the chatty, streetside patients halting their chatter. Something's wrong. The lights in the window flicker once, twice, a final time.

A steady clomping sounds against the hard, cold sidewalk, Chante and Mary pressing against the wall so as to avoid his path. Toby's mouth drops. Shoulders slouched under a long, black coat, with rich silver buttons, his neck obscured by a black scarf, and his curly hair covered by snowflakes, he glowers at no one in particular. He stares straight past them, green eyes fixated on the building ahead.

"This could be termed a fortuitous moment, or maybe not, seeing as no one else would agree. Anyways, the busy going-ons of the community stopped in order to view the sad, strange man ambling past the stores on the avenue. Craig Manning liked the cold, to go out in it and feel it head-on. He did his necessary errands, went immediately to work afterwards. A minute of interaction is what most people received, unless you were willing to buy. A penny-pincher, a sharp-tongued lad, a user of too much moisturizer, that's what he was. Never mind the reputation since he embraced it. After all, how many rock stars are sweet?"

"True," agrees Toby.

They jog to a spot behind Craig, knocking Mary and Chante to the side in the process.

"Hey!" the girls cry.

Coughing quietly, Craig retrieves a key from his pocket, puts it in the lock of the store. He opens the door, then shuts it right in Toby and J.T.'s faces. J.T. releases an annoyed sigh, drags Toby to the storefront window.

"Manning's Music was built with care," informs J.T., turning to Toby. "If his musical heirlooms were to be displayed, they were going to be displayed in the best way possible. Each instrument is housed in a protective, glass case, a laminated, historical description beside it. Craig wanted everyone to know how much they were worth. This would attract thieves, no? Well, a sick, tricked out alarm system keeps things in order."

"What system? With PTSN?" inquires Toby.

"Gee, Tobes. I'm not well-versed in geekology, alright?" replies J.T.

"Sue me for asking," grumbles Toby.

Shrugging, J.T. tries the door, knocks a few times. A few seconds pass before someone answers. Muscular frame covered by a tattered jean jacket, Craig's assistant parts the door, blue eyes clear and inviting. Toby guesses he's anxious for some good-hearted company.

"Hey, man," he greets.

"What's up!" greets J.T., dorkily raising his fist in the air. "Here to browse."

"Uh...yeah," the assistant says, returning to a desk full of paperwork.

Toby grins as he takes in a few electric guitars to his right, strings shining under the florescent light, as shiny as the newly waxed floor. Dude, he should learn how to play. Girls loved that.

"Sean Cameron," says J.T., eyeing the guy at the desk. "Of humble means and with dreams of having his own shop, Craig's first confidante. For some unknown reason between them, Craig trusted him. All I know is that it involves a train. My own personal belief is that Sean defused a bomb on a train that Craig was on. Good with his hands, that Sean. That didn't keep him from getting arrested, though, for illegal racing. After he got out with a record, Craig hired him as a belated thank-you gift, and because well, no one else likes Craig. Sean does, understands him. Cause Sean, under all that denim, has a heart of gold. Dude, he tried to talk down a guy with a gun...come on!"

"Yeah, I was there," whispers Toby, urgently.

"Can you guys keep it down?" requests Sean, looking at them, and then the door to Craig's office. "He's like...emo today."

"He's emo everyday," murmurs J.T.

As if on cue, the door to Craig's door swings open, and they view his stark, tall body, eyes centered on the visitors.

"They're...they're here to browse," says Sean, nodding at them.

Craig sniffs at them dismissively, walks to Sean, crosses his arms. He peers over Sean's shoulder.

"How many sales today?" he questions.

"Uh...we sold that keyboard to that one guy from No Doubt," replies Sean.

"That's...," starts Craig.

J.T. and Toby exchange a worried look, noting Craig's mouth twisting into a deep frown. They breathe a sigh of relief when it changes to a smile.

"That's one more sale than yesterday," says Craig. "Sean, you're really carrying your weight around here. See, you get the fruits of your labor when you aren't spending time with the family."

"Craig detested the thought of being with loved ones, even on the twenty-fifth of December," whispers J.T. "Being without a family, he didn't understand the attraction of togetherness. Loneliness was not a cruel thought to him."

Sean clears his throat. "Speaking of family, or...actually, the beginning of...um, I was wondering if I could have Christmas Day off?"

"When's that?" says Craig.

"Tomorrow," says Sean in disbelief.

"What?" exclaims Craig. "No wonder I got all those Christmas coupons in the mail. And those horrible cartoons have been playing non-stop during prime-time hours. Ruining a perfectly fine business day for this commercial crud. I..."

"Stop," moans Toby, clutching his head.

"Craig?" says Sean.

"We have no one to do business with? Alright," moans Craig.

Sean closes his eyes, smiles. Toby hasn't seen Sean that pleased since his first day back at Degrassi. That's when he was sporting that ponytail, which Emma actually liked. Alright, that should go on the checklist, too. Guitar, ponytail...

"I suppose you want a present, too," sighs Craig, stroking his chin.

Shrugging, Sean opens his eyes.

"Come on," encourages Craig.

"Well...you said I have been carrying my weight, and we just got an apartment...and a month ago, you mentioned a raise so..."

"I know!" interjects Craig. "You can take one of those logs from the fireplace."

"A log?" whispers Sean, eyes bugging out.

"You're welcome," says Craig, walking to his office and slamming the door.

Groaning, Sean stands, walks to the fireplace. J.T. and Toby join him, staring at the middling fire flickering, obviously on its last legs. Sean selects the top log, reasonably large.

"Emma won't even let me burn this," he sighs.

About to ask how Emma is, they're all silenced by a steady knocking on the door. The knocks aren't as immediate as J.T.'s, but Sean dutifully goes and lets the person walk in. Or rather, roll in.

"Ah, Jimmy Brooks," whispers J.T. "One of Craig's dearest friends. Actually, one of Craig's former friends. Yet, due to his gentle nature and mutual love of art, Jimmy never fully abandoned Craig. Life after the shooting gave him a new perspective, a second chance, so he welcomed the joy every day brought. Being part of such a tragedy kinda does that, you know?"

"Yeah, I was there," sighs Toby.

"In any case, Jimmy never forgotten a friend, which made him so popular," continues J.T. "More popular than me. I can't stand Jimmy Brooks. No, actually... I like him, too."

Jimmy shakes hands with Sean, wheels past several glass cases. His clothes weren't as fancy as Craig's, but they were certainly pricier than Sean's. He wore a Triple Five Soul jacket and expensive jeans.

"Is my unapologetically blunt bro in his office?" questions Jimmy.

Sean chuckles. "Yeah, and he's not in the best mood."

"Perfect time to talk, then," says Jimmy, rolling to the door.

He pounds politely, and they all hear Craig's chair skid across the floor, before he arrives to see Jimmy. Craig mutters a few words under his breath.

"What are you doing here?" demands Craig.

"Merry Christmas, man!" greets Jimmy.

"Bah humbug!" denounces Craig.

"You didn't RSVP for the Squatch shindig," says Jimmy. "At the illustrious Brooks' residence? Hazel's cooking this slammin' jerk chicken. Spin's coming so you know we're going to get all crazy. It'll be fun."

"The Squatch are some wannabe nobodies," says Craig, hotly. "What would you call them? Wack?"

"Wack enough to get you where you are, Manning," returns Jimmy, smiling.

"I wouldn't go if you paid me to go," says Craig. "Um...how much would you pay?"

"That's all you think about," sighs Jimmy. "What you get out of things. Christmas isn't about the cash flow, man. It's about helping your fellow man, celebrating with people you care about..."

"Get bent!" exclaims Craig.

"Oh, snap," mutters J.T.

"Yeah, okay, Bart Simpson," says Jimmy, shaking his head. "What, still resentful I dated Ashley when you went on tour? That's so done...you know, whatever."

Honestly, Toby wouldn't mind the fight going longer, especially with the mention of his stepsister. What did that have to do with anything? But that won't be the case, as Sean goes to answer yet another knock at the door. Manning's Music is certainly popular tonight. Not as popular as Jimmy, but yeah.

"Donations!" calls a girl, cheerfully. "Donations!"

Her purple scarf, with a pattern of snowmen, matches perfectly with her coat. Another boy, in a fashionable trench, runs a hand through his straight, black hair, and grins at Craig.

"Not you two, again!" cries Craig.

"Craig...buddy!" greets Marco.

"Not going to introduce them?" whispers Toby to J.T.

"Nah, this is one of their two minor appearances," explains J.T.

Too bad because Darcy's hot. Wait. Didn't she and Spinner end their relationship, like recently? Sweet. Toby checks his breath, walks to Darcy.

"Uh, Darcy...," he starts.

"The Degrassi Alumni Fund is collecting donations for a program you'd be interested in," says Darcy, a clearly rehearsed speech. "They want to bring more funding to the arts programs in the community center. Did you know that kids that do well in music also do well in math? Did you know that colleges look kindly on you if you play more than one musical instrument?"

"Duh...I got a stupid musical scholarship," shoots down Craig. "Why don't they just come here and buy one of my pieces?"

"Many of them would rather die, Craig," says Marco. "They don't like you."

Darcy hits Marco lightly in the gut.

"Sorry," breathes Marco.

"What he means is...they can't afford it...please?" begs Darcy. "A lot of these kids are becoming tone-deaf and we have to put up with their bad singing and playing. My ears hurt."

"Let your ears hurt," says Craig, coldly. "And if they're going to die instead of coming here, let them do that and decrease the untalented population."

Darcy, Sean, Toby, and J.T. gasp. Jimmy slams down his fists against the arms of his chair.

"You're cold, man," condemns Jimmy. "I'm out. Come to the party, or don't come."

"Hmmm, I...won't!" yells Craig.

"You know...it wouldn't kill you to have a wheelchair ramp for this place," shouts Jimmy.

"All of you...leave!" orders Craig, shooting them each a cold stare.

The door clatters after him, Toby shaking a bit. How could a musician turn away such a cause? Toby digs deep into his pockets, hands Darcy ten dollars. Darcy claps her hands.

"Um, do you like pizza?" asks Toby, hopefully.

"I...have to go," says Darcy, grabbing Marco by the hand and leaving before he can say anything else.

"I thought...," starts Toby.

"Quiet, Tobias," interjects J.T. "Time to end this scene."

Toby stops speaking, watches Sean straighten the paperwork, stand.

"The end of another grueling workday done, Sean Cameron deadened the lights in the store, the last crackles of the fire filling the room. He wondered to himself if his boss would ever be a kind man," says J.T.

"I wonder if he'll ever be kind," sighs Sean, scratching his head.

"Whoa," whispers Toby.

"Craig, done counting the money he's received from his musical engagements and his property, left his office to face the stinging cold again."

Craig exits the office, buttoning his last silver button.

"Be here early tomorrow," says Craig.

"Christmas...you said I could have it off," reminds Sean.

"Oh...then, alright," says Craig. "Be here all the earlier the next morning."

"Sure," says Sean. "Merry Christmas."

"Lock up the store tight," he commands, leaving without another word.

Sean frowns, retrieves a red scarf from a drawer, and puts it around his neck. The initials E.N. were knitted near the bottom.

"Merry Christmas, J.T. and Toby," says Sean, leading them to the exit.

"Merry Christmas, Sean," they both say.

The outside is no warmer than Manning's Music, Toby's lips shivering. If they were traveling, this would be a brutal night. More brutal than Craig? Probably not.

"See, the extreme cold didn't bother Craig Manning. His insides were frozen, hard to the touch. Yet, a night of surprises would eventually make those very insides begin to thaw. For a man is never mean for no reason."

"You're scaring me," admits Toby.

"Come on," groans J.T., leading his best friend down the street.


	2. I Wonder As I Wander

**II. I Wonder as I Wander**

Author's Note: This chapter is mildly angsty, but overall, it's still not. lol. Yeah. Reviews are welcome. :) I think I'm updating one more time before the holidays, but if not, happy holidays!

"A cruel gust of wind blew through the side streets, tinsel swinging against streetlamps. Craig Manning trudged through the snow, and the snow wasn't that fresh kind. No, it was the nasty, blackish slush that your grandmother makes you clean while you shovel the walk, and never mind the fact that it's your first day of break from school. And oh...," chronicles J.T., pausing.

Toby shakes his head. He wishes Craig lived closer to Manning's Music or the school, but no, the famous musician lived ten minutes away. Why couldn't they just ride the bus? Would it really damage J.T.'s narration? His fingers are numb.

"J.T...," begins Toby.

" The moon is shaded by clouds, Christmas clouds, and...," narrates J.T.

"What are you two doing?" interrupts a familiar voice as she strolls down the street.

Hair styled in a flattering bun, and a light blue winter coat over her frame, Liberty rights her glasses. Curiously, she holds an hourglass and a leather-covered book.

Appearing stunned, J.T. shrugs, glances over at Toby, who doesn't know whether to say anything either. They stare past her, seeing Craig's curly top go around the corner. Man!

"Liberty, I'm trying to narrate, alright?" shares J.T.

"Like extra credit?" prompts Liberty. "Hmmm, doing the same. A project on time and motion. Something's really off about tonight. Can't put my finger on it."

J.T. elbows Toby, gives him a smug expression. Alright, alright. So J.T. was in control for once without any permission from Liberty. Big deal. When school started, he'd be lovestruck as ever, and trying to get into her good graces. So he better enjoy this twisted night.

"And if I told you that I'm the person making this happen, with my tight storytelling skills?" boasts J.T., leaning into Liberty. "Impressed, right?"

"Yeah...right," brushes off Liberty. "There has to be a scientific explanation, particularly in the case of time. I mean, hours don't just slow down, do they? It's been ten o' clock for awhile now."

"Well, just keep plugging away, my little Einstein," says J.T., patting her back. "We're on the move."

J.T. and Toby start in the direction where Craig was last, Toby trying to make sense of Liberty's words.

"These properties are potentially dangerous, so I'd go home if I were you," warns Liberty.

"Uhh...," begins J.T.

"What's that mean?" whispers Toby, nervously.

"Hey, Liberty, you're missing a Madame Curie Christmas special on the Bio channel," informs J.T.

"Oooh!" cries Liberty, heading home.

J.T. and Toby exchange worried looks, pass the corner until they reach a large, upscale house. Toby and his dad drove to Craig's house a couple times to give Ashley a ride home, but after she went to England, he hasn't come around in about a year. Craig had done some major redecorating, including adding another level with a balcony. The brick house, with no Christmas lights or decorations to be seen, towered over the houses of his two neighbors. The red flag on the Jeremiah-named mailbox, oddly still the same, rattled in the wind.

"Manning's home was stately, yet dark, and huge, yet cold. It formerly belonged to his stepfather, Joey Jeremiah, who we'll meet in...oh, thirty or so minutes. This may suggest some hidden warmth he had for his old man, that even with the disappearance of the car lot, Craig still held onto something. Or you know, since Caitlin bought this house, she has to deal with all the homeowner issues."

"Clarify?" encourages Toby.

"Inside joke," mumbles J.T. "Anyhoo, we're going in."

"Oh no!" protests Toby. "I've managed to not do drugs or get arrested or impregnate a child or get involved in a love triangle. I am not, repeat not, risking my rep by breaking and entering."

"Come on," says J.T. "You said you wanted to know how Joey died, and it's not like we're total strangers to this house. Joey dragged us in there once."

Toby releases a deep breath, eyes his best friend. All that is very true.

"How are we getting inside?" asks Toby.

"This," says J.T., removing a vial of dust from his pocket.

"Cocaine?" exclaims Toby.

"No, because then I'd be Craig," laughs J.T. "It's like this dust I found in my costume's pocket a few weeks ago. Was going to use it at the station for the kids' Easter art show, but me suddenly disappearing would've freaked the kids out. I figure this is more appropriate."

"This isn't going to hurt, is it?" asks Toby, taking a couple steps back.

"Probably about the same as Alex flicking your ear," informs J.T.

"I liked that," admits Toby. "Tough girls are hot."

J.T. sprinkles some dust into his hand, splashes it in Toby's face. Toby coughs for a full minute, as J.T. flicks two handfuls of it over his shoulders. No fair. He didn't throw it in his own face.

"Let's go," instructs J.T., walking to the front door, Toby doing the same.

Instead of knocking or ringing the bell, J.T.'s form goes entirely through the wooden door. Toby stares on, blankly. This is insane. Although, more insane than J.T. thinking he could use a king-size condom with his stack of dimes? Nah, thinks Toby, a chilly blast of air greeting his cheeks as he goes through the door as well. The dust worked! Since the last time they've been inside, quite a few things have changed. Toby noticed there were no family photographs anymore, and most of the furniture was black, and looked uncomfortable.

"_Everything I touch turns to dust_," they hear from the kitchen.

For a second, Toby believes it's J.T. telling him more concerning the dust, then he recognizes the apology song Ashley received three years ago, after Craig cheated on her. They advance to the kitchen, where Craig is pouring a steaming pot of some food into a bowl. His countenance is more tough up close, and he doesn't smile as he sings.

"Craig performed the same routine every night," whispers J.T., leaning against a black couch. "Sang the same song, _Dust. _Ate the same food, goulash. These things were familiar to him, did them out of instinct. He carried the bowl through the empty house, to his lonely bedroom."

Craig blows on the warm goulash, sets it on a tray with a plate of poutine and a glass of milk, passes J.T. and Toby without recognition. Hmmm, just like in high school, remembers Toby. Oh wait, the dust. He can't see them. Toby chuckles, puts bunny ears behind Craig as they all go up the stairs.

"Real mature, Tobes," whispers J.T. "As Craig moved through the dark, he couldn't help thinking about Jimmy's words. That he was selfish, that this holiday held more than what Craig prized. Sean Cameron obviously thought so, taking a day off work to spend time with his loved ones. Ha, loved ones. He used to have all that, before it got taken away, and people wondered why he was so bitter."

They reach Craig's room, Toby and J.T. scrambling inside before he shuts the door and turns on the light. If the Jeremiah residence received the royal treatment, Craig's individual room is the Taj Mahal. Practically everything is in the colors of silver and gold. A large, king-sized, canopy bed has gold curtains surrounding it, the initials CM carved into its headboard. The lamps, fireplace, and drawers are silver, just as shiny as the guitar laying against the closet door to their left. Craig's tour must've been a huge sensation. Craig sets his goulash on a gold table, flips on the fireplace with a remote control. It roars to life. Thank goodness because Toby can finally feel his fingers.

Craig sits down, begins to eat, liquid trickling against his lips. Two minutes go by, then five, then ten. Toby groans, leans against a bedpost.

"This is boring," complains Toby.

"We're waiting for an arrival," shares J.T.

"Can we at least watch TV?" asks Toby, going to the plasma TV and turning it on.

"Toby!" cries J.T.

An infomercial appears on the screen, Craig spurting goulash from his mouth. Oh yeah, since he couldn't see them or hear them, this must be weird for the TV to be suddenly on. Toby smiles apologetically.

"Are you a season straggler?" asks a cheerful voice. "Caught up in your daily, hectic life? Well, look no further than Paige Michalchuk's Holiday Holdout!"

J.T., Toby, and Craig turn when they see Degrassi's former Spirit Squad captain, beaming at them, dressed in a tasteful, fitted red sweater and skirt, a Santa hat covering her blonde mane.

"We have everything for a low price!" guarantees Paige. "Simply continue to watch our Christmas Eve broadcast, and I promise you'll have the perfect package for each person, hun."

"Say that five times fast!" says Spinner, ducking his head into the camera frame. "Hey!"

"Spinner...," moans Paige.

"What my favorite shopper forgot to mention is that Squatch Wear is like, in massive supply...keeps you all warm and toasty."

Spinner winks at the camera, whirling around so the studio audience can see the sweatshirt he's wearing. The off-screen audience oohs and aahs.

"I hawk what I want to hawk, honeybee," says Paige, putting on a fake smile. "We'll...we'll be right back."

Paige pushes Spinner lightly before the screen changes to a commercial for Boxing Day specials at the local mall. Craig shakes his head, turns the TV off.

"Never liked their lovey dovey names," he mumbles, then returning to his goulash.

Another fifteen minutes pass, and Toby, growing anxious, finally decides to take a nap during that interval. J.T. said it'd be a long night. Luckily for him, his best friend shakes Toby, helps him to rise from the floor. During his nap, Craig has apparently changed into black silk pajamas, and has started reading a copy of _Rolling Stone._

"Amateur...sellout...needs a stylist," laughs Craig, flipping through the magazine.

His judgements are halted by the lights going out on their own accord, the fire reducing in size. Toby swallows a lump in his throat, that sound covered by louder, steady sounds– the sounds of chains clinking and dragging. Whatever is making them is at a slow crawl, and Craig, growing pale, grabs his guitar, maybe to slap it upside the head.

"This...this better not be Skinny," says Craig, wiping his sweaty brow. "He's not taking another one of my guitars, especially one signed by Taking Back Sunday."

The chains continue to drag for a few more moments, steps finally halting as the person reaches the door.

"_Everybody wants something they'll never give up...everybody wants something, they'll take your money and never give up,_" sings a masculine voice, somewhat on-key.

"What the?" says Craig, lowering the guitar, falling into his chair.

Before anyone can say anything else, a white-faced figure of someone they all know comes floating through the door, two rows of chains attached to his arms. Joey. Joey Jeremiah, his coal-black eyes burning a hole through their warm clothing, his tattered, crumbling Hawaiian shirt hanging from his shadowy body, his fedora...just a smidge lop-sided. Toby can see right through him as he moves to the table where Craig is. Craig's jaw drops, his legs shaking as his ghostly stepfather stares at him.

"Wasn't there a movie called Ghost Dad?" says J.T. "With Bill Cosby?"

Toby remains speechless, trying to fathom these strange events.

"Ah, well," sighs J.T. "Jeremiah's face. Transparent and tender. It made Craig recall the not so traumatic moments. Playing in his band, watching Angie ice skate with Joey, telling him what happened at the eighties' dance, that Emma and Manny snuck into. Why didn't they invite us? Yet, Craig could scarcely believe that the kindest adult in his life stood in his presence."

"Who are you?" questions Craig.

"Ask me who I was, man," returns Joey, his happy-go-lucky voice echoing.

"Talking in riddles, Joey?" asks Craig, dumbfounded. "I'm...you're not real! A figment of my imagination. Bad digestion! A gulp of goulash that was digested wrong."

"When I was alive, I was your father...well, pretty much," answers Joey. "And dude, was I a good one! This is how you greet your fellow ladies' man?"

Craig shakes his head violently, covers his eyes, then peeps in between his fingers.

"I'm not the topless Manny video, Manning," jokes Joey.

"And why didn't I see that?" complains J.T. "Toby, we gotta get out more. Nevertheless, Craig knew it was true then. The dead Jeremiah had come to visit, the only question remaining, why? I could tell him. Because the story's not going anywhere, otherwise."

Joey raises his arms, the chains clinking. "It is required of every heartthrob to walk the streets like all these regular guys...you know, like Snake. Guy didn't get any until college. Phew. But if a guy doesn't find true happiness, real happiness, he's doomed to walk this earth forever, craving what he didn't find."

"What true happiness?" asks Craig.

"What I had with Caitlin," sighs Joey. "With you and Angie. Like a real family. Love, understanding, togetherness..."

"Ugh," groans Craig. "I'm not some hippie, Joey. Maybe that's how it was back in the day, but..."

"I grew up in the eighties!" protests Joey. "I'm not old."

"Then, Caitlin left and everything got all...confusing," continues Joey. "I mean, Diane was scorchin', don't get me wrong, but I closed myself off, after you left, Angie left...then I died."

"How?" yells Toby, excitedly.

"Let him ask," says J.T., shoving Toby, lightly.

"How?" asks Craig, gently.

"Was supposed to be at the community center," reminisces Joey. "To help with the tone-deaf kids. But no, got distracted by this pretty redhead in the car lot. The lot was icy. We were starting to climb into my car for some quick nookie, then bam, fell and my skull cracked as easily as Wheels' voice during the Zit days."

"Done in by horniness," murmurs J.T.

"I'm always horny, and I'm still kicking," confesses Toby, nonchalantly.

Craig stands, cautiously going to Joey, evaluating his ghostly chains. They were transparent too, a dozen lock boxes at the end.

"Why the chains?" inquires Craig.

"Earned them while alive," explains Joey. "They're for every heart I broke. Craig, you got a few coming as well."

"No!" cries Craig. "You're out of your mind!"

"Out of my mind? See me stealing credit cards and wrecking hotel rooms?" argues Joey. "I'm dead. And when you're dead, you'll be like me, unless you get your act straight...finally."

"Whatever," says Craig.

"And what you did to my car lot? I should smack your ungrateful..."

"I do what I want!" exclaims Craig. "Go away...please."

He pays no attention to the apparition of his stepfather, moans, and flops on his bed, curtains fluttering as he falls. Craig tosses back and forth, mumbling into the sheets. J.T. coughs.

"Despite his ignorant reaction, Craig was concerned," says J.T. "He never thought of the afterlife, only the present, because that's where all his possessions were. The chains frightened him, and so did the possibility of singing his terrible, unreleased songs for an eternity, without the chance of a record deal."

"Craig, I'll offer you some comfort," says Joey, chains shaking as he glides forward. "Long ago, you were very vulnerable, more eager to love. I gave you love as best I could. So did your other family members and friends. We haven't forgotten who you used to be."

"I'm alone," whispers Craig. "That's all there is to it. I made...so many mistakes."

"We all do," assures Joey.

"Not the same Craig," breathes Craig. "If everyone believes I've changed, might as well be it."

"That's where you're wrong," argues Joey. "Younger ghosts will visit you tonight, since you'll apparently listen to the MTV generation and not me. And please don't be emo when they come. Go along with it, and you'll learn...you know, something you actually did when I was around."

"These visitors better be paying to stay," insists Craig, sitting up. "This isn't Motel Six."

"Look, get over yourself. There's three, and they're coming on the hour at the top of the hour."

"Craig sighed, watched Joey float to the door, lock boxes cluttering against the floor. It seemed like he didn't have the choice," narrates J.T. "There's no way he wanted to be in Joey's position, despite loving him in the past."

"When the clock rings twelve, the first will arrive," informs Joey. "Hmm, time to go haunt Kevin Smith."

"Huh?" says Craig.

"Busted my engagement," reminds Joey. "Should be crying about _Gigli _as usual."

The room brightens as soon as the last chink of Joey's chains dissolves as his shadowy body leaves. They were alone again. Craig deadens the fire, turns off the lights, his heartbeat accelerating. J.T. and Toby move to the window, Toby looking out at the balcony. The distance from the balcony to the ground couldn't have been that far, so why at that moment, does it feel like the farthest distance in the world?

Craig pulls down his sheets, hops into bed, ruffled brown curls against his satin pillows.

"That was a dream," he tells himself. "So I'll go to sleep, wake up an hour later, and return to reality."

"As he slumbered, Craig was so convinced that he'd awake to some sense of clarity, his home and mind in order," says J.T., beginning to unfasten the window.

"Hey...it's cold!" moans Toby, watching him.

"She can't get in otherwise," announces J.T.

"Who?" says Toby.

"The ghost, Toby!" exclaims J.T. "Craig shivered against his sheets, hoping, praying that he was as sane as the next guy. Many things Joey told him echoed in his mind. About true happiness, about changing himself, about his future. They rang loudly in his brain, so loudly that the chimes of his stylish bed clock had to compete."

Sharp, syncopated chiming comes from the clock on Craig's nightstand, Craig staring at the window, expectantly. Nothing. Great, thinks Craig. Joey was just trying to fool him, freak him out because of what he did to the car lot. Good one, Jeremiah. He draws the curtain, releases a deep breath.

"Where are the pictures of me?" laments a youthful, vibrant voice.

He gasps as a shapely shadow hovers behind the curtain, sweat forming at the nape of his neck.

"Boo!" shouts the owner of the shadow, sliding the curtain to see Craig.

"Ah!" screams Craig, jumping and falling to the floor, sheets covering him.

He wrestles with them for a few moments, manages to get them off his head. When he raises his head, his eyebrows shoot upward, as he views an all too familiar figure in his presence. She giggles as he rises.

"'Tis the ghost of Christmas past," shares J.T. "A girl we all know too well."

"Manny?" cries Craig. "What are...are you doing here? And you sounded...sounded like my sister."

"You know, I'm so sick of hearing that!" complains Manny. "I'm not a child anymore! I don't look like your sister, act like your sister, and I definitely don't dress like your sister."

A flowing, red robe over her body, her face glowing as brilliantly as a star, Manny lowers the robe to reveal a pink crop-top, a pink thong visible above the waist of her low-rise jeans.

"Raditch can't tell me how to dress anymore since I'm supernatural!" brags Manny, flipping her dark hair. "Points for feminism."

"Um...yeah," says Craig. "Listen, I appreciate your persistence...always have, but I'm not in the mood for a relationship right now."

"That was the old...well, more human Manny," she says, crossing her arms. "Currently, I'm in otherworldly, supportive friend mode, mkay?"

"I'd like her to support me," whispers Toby, pounding fists with a grinning J.T.

"That's a problem," says Craig, starting for the door. "See...I've got...got homework. Never graduated high school, you see?"

"No, you're staying," insists Manny, stretching out her hand.

Toby's mouth parts as Craig's feet halt, and he backs up to Manny, as if an invisible rope is reeling him to her. J.T. doesn't appear disturbed, checks his watch.

"Wish I could've done that after you dumped me for the locker decorating," sighs Manny. "Craig, this is for your own good. Personally, I'm all for transformations that broaden your character...I mean, life."

Craig clicks his tongue, then rubs his forehead.

"After that, Craig grew weary of resisting, which is the usual between him and Manny. However, this appeared to be a healthy form of that, and recalling Joey's chains from breaking all those hearts, he felt bad saying no to the first girl whose heart he broke," shares J.T.

"So what's your job with me?" questions Craig.

"I'm the Ghost of Christmas Past," explains Manny. "I wanted the Ghost of Christmas Hot Past, but that didn't clear. Anyways, enough jabbering. Took the early shift so I could go to a party later."

"A rave?" teases Craig.

Manny stretches her hand out again, making Craig lurch.

"Hee," squeals Manny. "This is going to be fun."

"Why's the window open?" says Craig, as Manny releases him.

"Going on a trip."

"I only fly first-class," jokes Craig.

"Funny," says Manny, rolling her eyes. "But we will need funny to get around."

"Okay?" says Craig, blankly.

"Well, as you know, when we were somewhat involved, I said a host of catchy phrases," recalls Manny. "For you to fly, and to show that you actually cared about me at one point in your selfish existence, I need you to repeat one of them."

"Tastes like happy!" shouts Toby.

"She can't hear you," whispers J.T., grabbing Toby's arm.

Craig twists his lips, taps his chin, pondering those years. Then, he snaps his fingers.

"Dibs on the cinnamon buns!" offers Craig.

Manny claps, situates her robe, and grabs Craig's clammy hand. The window flies open, Manny hopping out with Craig screaming.

"What a wimp," laughs Toby.

"Following," informs J.T., taking Toby's arm and making him jump next.

Toby yells for a full minute as they tumble out of the window, soar over the balcony, and into the night sky. The deep blue unsettles his eyes, the wind blowing against his cheeks. They were flying, actually flying, with feet off the ground. J.T. hums "Flight of the Bumblebee", eyes locked on Craig and Manny flying in front. Toby glances at Toronto below them, yellow lights like stars underneath their bodies, cars moving like ants. He feels ready to throw up. Heh, maybe he'd hit Nic or another Lakehurst guy that beat him up.

The chance has passed as Manny and Craig start their descent, easily floating to a snow-covered street. J.T. motions for him to stop panicking, and set his feet in a downward motion, the two boys joining the ghost and Craig on the ground.

"Better than Jet Blue," kids J.T., running to Craig.

"Why are we on this street?" wonders Craig. "It's a street that I could find with blind eyes."

"There was a time when you didn't hate Christmas," says Manny, turning a doorknob to their right. "When days were warm, the mood was festive, and you were still hot."

All of them make their way into the house, meticulously decorated with hand-drawn decorations, a store-bought tree, and two gingerbread houses on the table. Craig breathes heavily as they hear a youthful yell fill the room.

"Mom, you said I could use the gumdrops for a fence!" says a boyish voice.

A young form appears in the door frame of the living room, Toby staring at him alarmed. Craig puts a hand over his heart.

"His heart ached at the sight of a boy he hadn't seen in such a long time," says J.T. "Clean, styled curls, corduroy pants, anxious grin. His skin prickled as he beheld himself. Craig Manning, at the tender age of ten. This was the former home of Julia Manning, before she moved to the Jeremiah residence that we just left. It was often the custom for Craig to visit his mother, but customs change, and this was the first year that Joey and Angie came over to celebrate the joyful holiday occasion with them."

"Craig, you know we're saving some gumdrops for Angie," says a dark-haired beauty, adjusting her apron as she comes in.

"Mom!" cries older Craig, trying to touch her. "I haven't seen you..."

"Craig, we can't be seen," says Manny. "We're shadows to them and nothing else."

"That's...that's my mom," says adult Craig, sadly.

"Dear-hearted Julia," adds J.T. "No matter their familial situation, she always tried to make things easier for Craig and Angie. Whatever arrangements she made with Joey or Craig, she remembered what was in their best interest."

"Angie won't mind," whines ten-year old Craig. "She's too young to eat them."

"It's always good to share. Bad boys don't," insists Julia, bending to her son. "You'd rather be good, right?"

"Yes, Mom," relents Craig, kissing her cheek. "Has Dad called today?"

"Oh, not yet, but he will," says Julia. "He's busy working."

"It's Christmas, though...," begins Craig.

"I know, I know," interjects Julia. "Albert..."

Young Craig shudders at the name, the older Craig lowering his eyes. Manny leads him to a corner.

"Craig was so used to Julia calling Albert 'your father' or Daddy," explains J.T., standing behind Manny. "Divorce seemed such a cruel term to him. Yet, his mother is the happiest he's ever seen her, and Joey, he had to confess, was good for her, better to her."

"I'll wait by the phone," decides Craig.

"Craig...don't...don't be too disappointed if...," says Julia, her voice trailing off. "Actually, I'm going to go call Joe, see what's keeping your sister."

Ten-year old Craig nods, walks to an armchair, sits diligently. Older Craig shakes his head as he views himself, the boy who waits, and waits, before and after Joey and Angie came. The scene blends into a blur with the passing minutes, materializes to more joyful scenes. Angie arrives, complains that her gingerbread house is smaller, charmingly lets Craig have the gumdrops as he sits by the phone. Joey tries to get Craig invested in a game of Uno with failed results, and he grudgingly eats the treats Julia set in front of him.

"No scene could shake what the older Craig knew," sighs J.T. "The call that never came from his father. Albert resented Joey and Julia's relationship so much, he started ignoring Craig whenever he was around them. Even on Christmas. It was the first tainting of what should be a time for hope and reconciliation. Young Craig thought, if he didn't make the time, why should I? Older Craig thought these images brutal."

"Why'd you show me this, Manny?" demands Craig, brushing past her.

J.T. and Toby follow Manny as she trails Craig outside the house. A steady snowfall has started.

"I don't need to be reminded of Albert Manning," breathes Craig, glancing at the sky.

"Sadly, you do, Craig," says Manny, looping arms with him. "We have other stops to make so..."

"That was too much!" snaps Craig. "I'm not going anywhere with..."

"Hmm, yes, we are," mutters J.T., running to Craig and pushing him.

Craig totters into a bank of snow, Manny yelping. He instantly gets to his feet, confusion written on his face.

"Yummy yum yum," whispers J.T. in his ear.

"Yummy yum yum?" repeats Craig, loudly. "Huh? Who's there?"

"That's like the perfect expression for the bash we're going to crash!" shouts Manny, pumping her fist in the air. "Yes!"

Before Craig can say another word, Manny takes him by the hand and begins strolling down the street. J.T. and Toby laugh, jogging alongside them.

After a five minute walk, they're standing right in front of a building they went to everyday. Degrassi Community School. However, unlike during the holidays, the school is well-lit, cheery music flowing through the entrance. Toby glances at the school sign. Snake's Happening Holiday Extravaganza. What? The Student Council didn't approve that. Oh, great, and since he's acting treasurer, Liberty would blame him. No, that's right, this is the past, he tells himself.

"Why, it's Snake's Happening Holiday Extravaganza!" cries Craig, without the slightest hint of impracticality. "I remember this as if it were...grade eleven."

"It was grade eleven, dummy," says Manny, going up the stairs with him. "The year you dated another girl that shall remain nameless."

"Snake felt bad for students that were personally affected by the shooting, and wanted to make the place cheerful again," explains J.T. to Toby. "Me, I would've bought all of us churros and called it a day. Not Snake, though. He went all out, and no price was too steep. That explains, you know, the bags of extra ice."

"Oh," says Toby, as they head in the direction of the thumping music.

Entering the auditorium, Manny drops it like it's hot, weaves through the crowd as she dances. Craig stares at the crowd, placidly, trying to recognize anyone. There were quite a few people they all knew, thinks Toby. Spinner and Manny, a former couple he always forgot were a couple, were grinding to a clean holiday carol.

"Man, I have more rhythm than I thought," boasts Manny, as they pass her former self and Spinner, jutting out his hips.

Hazel and Paige were exchanging make-up tips, as Danny chases Emma with a huge piece of mistletoe.

"Ah, Paige," says Toby, trying to tap her shoulder without any luck. "Listen, on New Year's, there's this Chess Club..."

"Stop hitting on the girls in the story!" whispers J.T., pushing Toby gently.

They're all stunned when they hear someone tapping a microphone, their Media Immersion teacher standing on an erected stage as everyone applauds. Snake is still bald from his treatments, though his face appears as youthful as the first day Toby met him.

"Welcome to the part-ay!" shouts Snake, geekily, some cheers sounding after that. "We've all had a tough year, and I'm not going to make a big speech. I'm sure we've all done some soul-searching, taking stock of our what matters in our lives. What I will say is that Degrassi, even in its darkest hour, is our home. We've come together in so many great ways following those days, and you guys are truly family. So to home!"

"To home!" echoes everyone in the crowd.

Well, not everyone, notes Toby. Craig, any form of Craig, isn't among the group, the group he usually hung out with.

"Where am I?" mutters Craig. "I mean, I was here."

"Conceited, much?" groans Manny. "Fine. Keep your eye on that door."

Sure enough, with Manny's words, sixteen-year old Craig comes in, black leather jacket on his skinny figure, vintage tee-shirt over his nice build. Younger Manny sees him, sighs, then collects herself.

"Don't pay attention to him, you dolt!" yells Manny, going to shake herself.

"Hey, there's me!" cries Toby.

It's weird seeing yourself at a different time, thinks Toby. Especially at a social gathering. Whoa, was he always that pathetic. Toby, leaning against the wall, sniffs some punch. Fifteen-year old J.T. yawns, strokes his belly.

"We're so cool," breathes narrator J.T. "Anyway, despite the hectic holiday partying, Craig Manning found time to sneak away and work on a rather important project, a project he wanted to share with as many people as possible."

Craig rights his leather jacket, passes his future incarnation, and goes to Snake. Snake views him curiously, especially when Craig takes the microphone.

"This little event...why are we having it?" demands Craig.

The other partygoers groan.

"Jimmy's lying in a hospital bed," continues Craig. "Which is why I wrote these songs about being fragile and conscious. So pretend to be deep for a second and..."

"Shut your trap!" yells Sully.

"Sully...over here!" calls ghost Manny, waving to him. "Hey...pay attention to me like you always do! Pay attention! I've got the thong on!"

"You guys are disgraceful!" moans Craig. "This a world of darkness and despair and tragedy, and if you actually noticed what goes on with Degrassi every year instead of getting lattes from the Dot or doing stupid Spirit Squad cheers..."

"Hey!" protests Paige.

"Quite enough, Craig," says Snake, leading him off the stage.

Everyone voices their approval, Craig clambering down the steps, as Snake takes him to the side. I don't know, thinks Toby. It was no worse than Emma's environmental speeches. Hmm, Emma. Where is that beautiful blonde? J.T. yanks Toby to Snake and Craig, not allowing him the pleasure. Unable to get a glance from Sully, Manny resumes her task, ushering Craig to the stage as well.

"This isn't a time for you to be emo, Craig," sighs Snake. "I'm Joey's friend and all, but you're a party pooper."

"How come no one understands me?" whispers Craig, intently. "Is it become I'm socially aware? Huh?"

"No," insists Snake. "We're...we're just thankful that we're here, that Jimmy's getting better. Look, go get a cookie. That always cheers me up."

"My mom made me cookies," says Craig, frowning. "Nah. I'll get...like carrot sticks."

"There's plenty," reassures Snake. "And ice!"

The future posse trails sixteen-year old Craig to the refreshment table, all bumping into him as they see a face that's so familiar. She's the most familiar to Toby, since they lived together.

"Ash," sighs older Craig, immediately smoothing his pajama bottoms.

Ashley absent-mindedly straightens some napkins, Converse sneakers against the linoleum floor, reddish-brown hair glossy as the fake snowflakes against the auditorium walls.

"All that talk of understanding," whispers J.T. "And he views the girl that understands him most. Ashley Kerwin. His Shrew soulmate, his musical sparring partner, and his beautiful bandmate appeared as new as before. Snake was exactly right. The aftermath of the shooting made him evaluate everything, everyone. Craig realized this girl from his colorful past, that she's the girl he was less selfish with, most open with. His muse...she's the owner of the heart he hated breaking the most. And...now a break from the sentimentality regarding your stepsister and her boytoy."

"Thank goodness," mumbles Toby, grimacing.

"Hey, Ash," greets sixteen-year old Craig. "You showed up to this thing?"

"Nothing better to do," admits Ashley. "How are you? Haven't seen you since the hospital."

"True," explains J.T. "Craig, not used to having that level of compassion shown to him, released Ashley after his diagnosis. He didn't want to be a burden to her, after seeing that Joey paying for his medical bills was making life harder at home. The abrupt refusal to allow her to stay lead Ashley to cry for weeks. They kept their distance, regarded each other as strangers in the halls. However, that wasn't to last."

"I'm fine," assures Craig. "Was awake last night...spent the whole night writing songs."

"Would love to hear them sometime," says Ashley. "Are they for the Squatch?"

"A couple," says Craig. "And sure...you'll be the first person I share them with."

"Great!" cries Ashley. "Too bad your speech didn't go over well. People should be thinking more deeply about this."

"Well, of course, she thinks so," mumbles ghost Manny, narrowing her eyes.

"Do you...do you want to dance?" asks Craig. "I mean...depending on the song. Snake's happening party isn't exactly hip when it comes to tunes."

"Forget the tune...dancing with you is something I miss," stammers Ashley, blushing.

Craig beams, holds out his hand to Ashley. Ashley nods, taking it. Pretty soon, they're on the floor, swaying to a slow song, and for once, just once, Toby isn't disgusted. Younger Craig had found something to be cheery about, and that's good, because the "desperate to be dark" act was wearing thin.

"Do you remember this Christmas?" questions Manny.

"He did," inserts J.T. as older Craig remains silent. "It's the first holiday where his heart didn't feel as if it was struggling to beat, a soft return to normalcy. Getting healthier after the hospital stays, getting better after apologizing for cheating, he could open himself to another individual. Be a boyfriend instead of a burden. If Ashley was willing, he wanted to take that next step with her."

"There's...there's another Christmas with her," speaks up Manny, hesitantly.

"Oh, please, do you want to torture me?" cries future Craig, glaring at her. "Do not show me _that Christmas._ Want to hurt me like I hurt you?"

"This isn't about hurting you, Craig!" insists Manny. "I...I have to show you."

Craig reluctantly leaves the auditorium with Manny, Toby and J.T. on the way. Toby pauses to view his stepsister and Craig, two years ago, so happy, so ready. What could possibly tear them apart?

"Something tells me I'm not going to like this part," whispers Toby.

"We'll see, Tobes," sighs J.T. "We'll see."


	3. Little Drummer Boy

**III. Little Drummer Boy **

Author's Note: Thanks for the reviews! Have a wonderful New Year's! 2008!!!

They've been walking for at least half an hour, the night growing frostier by the minute. Toby wonders if the chill is seeping through Manny's red robe to her thong, the image of the infamous piece of clothing warming him up, then feeling guilty about it since she, like a couple other girls he's interested in, is only a friend. He's kept his head down the entire time, trying not to meet the wind headfirst. Only when they reach the next crosswalk does he finally notice where they've arrived. 

"We're at the Manning house again?" cries Toby.

"A revised, older version of the Manning house," corrects J.T.

His best friend, as has been the case every time tonight, is right. The Jeremiah house is as he remembered, before Craig made the alterations. Angie's Barbie ice skates are drying on the stoop. A lawnmower is sitting in a pile of snow. The sole difference is booming music coming from behind the closed garage door, badly played, out of synch. Craig, pajamas glinting in the faint light streaming through the door's window, cringes.

"Who on earth...or what on earth is that?" demands Craig.

"You," says Manny, simply. "Catchy saying, please?"

"Their ties make me want to strangle them," supplies Craig.

"Bad fashion is always funny," says Manny. "No comments on your p.j.s."

"Like yours were any better," scoffs Craig. "These are hand-made, Italian..."

"Look who got all metrosexual?" interjects Manny, silencing Craig.

J.T. laughs as Manny lifts her arm, raising the garage door to expose not only Craig, but the original members of Downtown Sasquatch: Spinner, in a wool, green hat with a white pom-pom on top; Marco, in a blazer and warm, orange scarf; Jimmy, standing stark with his bass and in a bomber jacket; Craig, leather jacket and a Death Cab sweatshirt underneath.

"Can we get some heat?" begs Marco over the noise. "Joey doesn't heat this place?"

"It's busted," explains fifteen-year old Craig. "Like the garage door, apparently."

"As usual at this point in his life, Craig was lying," narrates J.T. "Joey reunited with Caitlin a couple days ago, leaving Angie with his mother, and Craig alone in their house. The truth? Craig had no idea how to turn the heat on. So they suffered in their artistic pursuits, and anyone walking by and hearing this was suffering as well."

Manny pushes Craig into the garage, the garage door closing, J.T. and Toby ducking in before it went completely down.

"So numb I can't drum!" complains Spinner, setting his sticks on his stool.

"What?" cries Craig. "You guys are a bunch of pansies! A lack of heat gets the blood pumping...come on!"

"Look," says Jimmy, patiently. "Just because you're angry about what happened with you and Ash..."

"And him and Manny," inserts Spinner.

"Don't take it out on us," finishes Jimmy.

Craig separates from ghost Manny, stares dismally at his former self.

"Probably Craig's biggest regret in high school, the infamous love triangle. While dating Ashley Kerwin, Craig two-timed her with one Manny Santos, who half the guys in Degrassi would meet under the mistletoe. Instead of meeting Craig under the mistletoe, Ashley gave him a present of her own, a big ol' slap across his face. I enjoyed it, was inches away...pretty sweet," says J.T., grinning widely.

"I can't believe you did that," says Jimmy, shaking his head.

"I think it was pretty pimp," defends Spinner, then receiving a look from Marco. "I mean...bad Craig. Very bad Craig. No eggnog for you."

"Why did you do it, man?" asks Marco.

Future Craig approaches Marco, oblivious to his appearance. It's funny how even as a shadow, he finds it easier talking to the most sympathetic of his friends. Must've been that kiss they shared.

"Was...was like lost...or whatever," answers future Craig, while the younger one remains silent. "I didn't know what love was."

Ghost Manny sighs, gives him a sad stare. "That's honestly what you thought afterwards, isn't it?"

"Yes," admits Craig. "Didn't know it at the time."

"Should be concentrating on my music, anyway!" insists younger Craig. "But I can't do it with this pathetic percussion..."

"Hey!" protests Spinner.

"The showboating guitar guru..."

"You must be out your riff-lovin' mind, man!" interjects Jimmy.

"Or the botched bass lines," completes Craig. "You guys suck. Complaining about the cold. So clear you guys aren't practicing at home, anyways."

"I'm trying!" promises Marco. "Can't I just whip out my accordion?"

"Bubbe's friend has one of those!" says Toby, beaming despite not being heard.

"Perhaps we need a second opinion?" blasts Jimmy. "Oh, wait. The one person who came to rehearsals with any music knowledge, our only audience...Ashley? You cheated on her!"

"Go write a sexist rhyme!" snaps Craig.

"Gladly," whispers Jimmy, glaring. "Let's leave, guys."

Young Craig stares on in bemusement as the other guys pack their instruments hurriedly, head into the night. Marco hangs for a bit, Toby not too surprised.

"We know you're hurting, but you could be a little more sensitive, buddy," says Marco. "Your friends are here for you."

"All of you are judging me," mutters Craig, pretending to adjust a couple guitar tabs.

"That's not...," begins Marco.

"Go, Marco," interrupts Craig. "I'll sink into the black depths of eternal darkness, never to return, failing to bother another human soul."

"Uh, okay, _Ashley_...see you in school," says Marco, exiting the garage.

Young Craig breathes heavily, lounges on an ugly, faded red couch with stuffing showing near the bottom. He strums his guitar, his singing bouncing off the walls:

"_I don't got no one for Christmas...there is just one girl I need...too inept to cook any dinner...too lazy to get a tree...Joey and Caitlin are knockin' boots...while I work on these awful tunes...make an artist's dream come true...all I want for Christmas is you." _

"Ewww, I hate moody Craig," complains Manny, pulling some earmuffs from her robe that conveniently match her thong. 

"Don't we all?" says J.T. "Thank goodness, because who should appear but the lovely Ashley Kerwin."

"Ugh!" cries Toby, as he hears a steady bang on the metal garage door.

Bouncing up from the couch, younger Craig lays his guitar on the sofa, raises the door. They all stare at Ashley, black wool coat on her frame, dark green scarf fluttering under her short, red-brown hair. Manny removes her earmuffs, now appearing interested.

"Whoa, it's so weird seeing her change her styles so quickly," says J.T.

"You do go to Degrassi, right?" kids Toby, sarcastically.

"Um, you know what I meant," says J.T. "Ignoring your last remark, it's both strange and wondrous for Ashley to have appeared at that very moment. Still incredibly bruised by Craig's infidelity, Ashley thought it best to return a certain gift Craig laid on her doorstep that morning."

"I left it there at six a.m.," explains older Craig to Manny. "Her parents weren't up, Toby wasn't up..."

"Cool, I got mentioned!" says Toby, happily.

"Even if she hated me, I wanted her to have the...," says future Craig.

"A Ramones T-shirt!" exclaims Ashley, covering future Craig's next words. "You thought I would take you back by giving me a piece of clothing?"

"No!" says younger Craig. "Maybe...alright, yes. Ashley, the shirt cost eighty dollars."

"Really?" cries ghost Manny. "How much did my skating bracelet cost?"

"Um...I can't hear myself," deflects Craig, turning from Manny.

"Craig, why would you think a gift would change how I feel?" says Ashley. "It's almost like you believe..."

Future Craig nods, as Ashley's voice stalls.

"Neither of them could utter the sad reality," sighs J.T. "Whenever Albert hurt Craig, he bought him things. It was a habit that has sadly made its way into what they shared. Craig, fifteen, had trouble expressing how badly he felt with words. Until..."

"Until he wrote Dust!" interrupts Toby.

"I wasn't finished," groans J.T. "And that's how it was...until he wrote Dust. There, I'm finished."

"Wait...he didn't write it that night," argues Toby.

"I only cover Christmases, Toby," says J.T., resetting his watch. "Alright, Manny's got two minutes to get to the next scene, or else I'm taking over."

The boys stare at Manny expectantly, as she glances at future Craig taking in himself and Ashley, vulnerable eyes piercing the past.

"I gave you my grandpa's guitar because it meant something to me, because it was from my heart," reminds Ashley, tossing him the shirt.

"Can't return it," moans younger Craig, putting it against his own chest. "Hmmm."

"You don't get it...you never do!" shouts Ashley. "How about I buy you a T-shirt and you see what good it does you?"

"Why don't you?" snaps Craig, rising. "Like with my face on it, burning in some flames, since you hate me so much?"

"Maybe I will!"

"Fine!"

"Fine!"

"No, for real, Ash, I can't return it," says younger Craig, calmly.

"Ah!" exclaims Ashley, turning and stomping down the pavement of the Jeremiah driveway.

Toby, Manny, and J.T. offer future Craig annoyed looks.

"What...I couldn't return it," defends future Craig. "Alright, that was the worst Christmas ever. I was selfish, thoughtless, needed a haircut...you can stop me."

"Nah, you're doing a good job," compliments Manny. "Although, to hammer it in further, we're going to a flashback that wasn't too long ago. You know how we roll."

"Guys, do we have a prettier one?" suggests future Craig, shrugging.

"The tambourine," giggles Manny. "Okay, that will do."

Tambourine? Toby doesn't recall Manny playing any tambourine? Great, so he's the only person that can't play a musical instrument in this school. Well, maybe Emma didn't. Or J.T.

"J.T...," says Toby, turning to his best friend.

"_Shake yo tambourine, goin', get yourself a whistling!_" raps J.T., removing his top hat and pumping his butt. "_Shake yo tambourine...goin' get..._oops, sorry. Couldn't resist."

"This never happens in Hanukkah stories," mumbles Toby.

They advance to the opening garage door, Craig casting one final look at the boy he was, Ramones T-shirt slung over his shoulders as he plays his guitar relentlessly. Toby didn't feel there could be a more pathetic sight at that moment. That is, until they reach their next stop.

Thick smog coats their eyes, Toby's glasses, and they stumble through the mist, as if they're walking through mud. Manny the apparition is not exempt either, gripping Craig as tight as she can, blocking some of his circulation.

"Where are we going?" calls Craig through the murk.

"To a place where many people don't want to wind up," answers Manny.

Toby wishes she were less mysterious, this whole walking-through-smog thing the total opposite of fun. Finally, they reach a clearing that holds...a bus station? He slightly makes out a mess of curls, darker than Craig's, healthier too. Angela Jeremiah bounces around merrily, as a younger Craig, exactly six months younger, sits listless on a bench. Their dress is remarkably dissimilar, Angie in a light blue summer dress, and Craig in a grey T-shirt and black pants.

"Cruel, Manny," remarks Craig.

Cruel? Toby wonders what that means, thinks it wise to shut up and listen, based on the weary gaze J.T. is giving him.

"Do not blame me for what has transpired," replies Manny. "Can't even spell transpired. I'm good at science and theater, though."

"No need to brag, Manny," murmurs J.T. "Although the last scene with Ashley was quite heart-breaking, this particular day is incredibly connected, as Craig is reminded of the day, the brutal day, where he lost the other big female in his life. All due to circumstances beyond his control."

"This reminds me of when we were about to go to British Columbia," says younger Craig, sniffling. "Remember that, Ang?"

"Yes...they're going to wipe my memory clean, though," replies Angie. "That's what they do on the first day of vacation."

"Maybe I shouldn't go on tour...what if something bad happens?" says Craig, hurriedly.

"You can't stop your dream for me," insists Angie.

Craig stands, kneels to his little sister. Angie rewards him with a pearly white smile. They hug, older Craig putting both hands over his mouth to keep in a sob as he views the gesture.

"Are you sure you won't be lonely?" asks Craig, separating from her.

"No, there are plenty of people like me there," says Angie. "Daddy tried to convince me to stay, but I know it's for the best."

"Ang, you're the only girl that's never left me, loved me even at my worst, after Ash and Caitlin left," chokes out Craig.

"I'll write you on my Hello Kitty stationary...if I'm allowed," promises Angie, starting to cry. "Before...you know, I go blank."

"Angie!" cries a familiar, distant voice.

Too familiar, thinks Toby. What the...Kendra? Kendra Mason, his former girlfriend, sticks her raven-haired head from a bus window, waves at Angie. Angie wipes her cheeks, goes to fetch her bag.

"Hey...Kendra!" yells Toby. "Are you dating anybody? Kendra?"

"Can't hear you, Toby," informs J.T.

"Explanation for this bus?" demands Toby.

"Well, when people are no longer mentioned on Degrassi, or part of any crucial developments, they're shipped off to a secret, tropical hideaway where their personalties are better appreciated...or where they can at least chill," provides J.T. "With Craig going off on tour, and Joey putting their house up for sale, we say adios to the littlest Jeremiah."

"Nah!" cries Toby. "Who made that decision?"

"Craig himself," replies J.T. "He thought it was in her best interest, to have a secure, family-friendly place while Joey was sleeping with every girl in sight in their hotel room. That didn't take the sting away, however."

"How do you feel, Craig?" nudges Manny.

"It was horrible sending her to the FDP," admits Craig.

"FDP?" asks Toby.

"Forgotten Degrassi Peeps," clarifies J.T. "And there's no coming back. Unless, they're absolutely needed."

"They said they'd have her back at Christmas, after Joey got treated for sex addiction," shares Craig, blinking back tears as Angie climbed the bus. "Liars. Joey died because of it. Lost my dad and my sister."

"This whole story sounds way too out there," comments Toby.

"Yeah, Tobes," says J.T., rolling his eyes. "Cause we're all living a normal, Brady Bunch existence on Degrassi Street. Watching the yule log on TV and toasting marshmallows. We're lucky to be breathing, given the intensity of this community. Besides, have we known anyone who dealt with the consequences of sex addiction yet?"

"I...can't argue with that," confesses Toby.

The bus Angie boards is a black coach, all the windows rolled down for Toby to see clearly. Luckily, he doesn't recognize most of these peeps, except Kendra.

"Oskar!" cries Manny, motioning to a heavyset guy with a megaphone in his hands. "It's Manny...we were in Spirit Squad together!"

"There was a boy on Spirit Squad?" whispers Craig in disbelief. "Oh, there's Sean's friend Towerz."

"Liberty's ex," recalls Toby, softly.

J.T. doesn't hear him, kicking the side of the bus where Towerz sits, and yelling "Good riddance!"

"Focus," commands Toby.

"Are you showing me this because there's a chance my sister is coming home?" breathes Craig, giddily.

Manny shakes her head. "Because of Joey's selfishness, she is forever lost."

"No...no, you...you have to be lying!" cries future Craig. "I have to stop the bus! I have to!"

The bus roars to life, stifling Craig's sobbing. Future Craig walks to the bus, pounds on the heavy side door, the sound apparently dead to the inhabitants of this flashback. Angie peers at the younger Craig from her window.

"Bye Craig!" yells Angie. "See ya when Daddy gets better!"

"Bye Ang!" yells past Craig, waving his arm madly.

"Idiot!" snaps Craig at the younger version of himself. "Go after her! Stop the bus! Joey won't get better! She's still a part of our lives...she's still a part of it!"

The bus roars to life, starts to move faster, so fast Craig can't run with the vehicle. It turns a corner, peels down the street.

Tears streaming against the skin of his cheeks, the younger Craig collapses in a nearby phone booth, eyes staring at the hard, black phone across from him. Instinctively, he grabs it, starts to dial. Future Craig jogs to him, staring on innocently.

"Oooh, good idea," whispers Manny. "Pizza. I'm starvin' like Marvin."

"Hello? Ashley?" says past Craig into the phone.

"Yeah, lost my appetite," remarks Manny, righting her robe and dropping on the bench.

"Craig turned to Ashley when he lost his last family member, his father," says J.T. "She was always there to hear his troubles, be a shoulder to lean on. He wasn't anticipating hearing another voice on the line..."

"Jimmy!" cries Craig. "Why are you answering Ashley's...wait, when did you two start dating? No, I'm in town...getting ready for my tour...whoa, don't change the subject!"

Toby gulps. As he told J.T., he wasn't sure he was going to like this part, and something tells him the worst is coming.

"Well, then...I don't need her!" yells Craig. "Or the Squatch...I'm not overreacting! I was engaged to the girl...so what if it was for a day? And you...I told you about the engagement first and you're dating her..."

"Slightly juicy," says Manny, rising and joining Craig.

"You calm down!" continues Craig. "I'm not being selfish with her...you're dead to me, Jimmy! You and the Squatch! Dead to me!"

"Ouch," says Toby, releasing a low whistle.

Craig slams the phone in its cradle, pouts, then cries loudly. Very loudly. Toby would've liked to have earmuffs like Manny. Craig slides against the glass of the phone booth, snot trickling to his lip.

"Hee...real heartthrob," jokes J.T.

"Gross," remarks Manny, then blushing as future Craig glares at her. "I mean, we're done. Well, have you learned anything?"

Instead of answering her, Craig retreats into the dense fog, shoulders slumped. Ugh, after such long memories, memories they had to walk to, he figured Craig would've gotten a clue by then. So making a tab of all that transpired, which he could spell: Craig cheated on the girl that understood him best, sent away the girl that loved him best to protect her, and ditched Jimmy and his other friends. A regular Lifetime movie, which Kate made him watch every now and then.

They all head into the fog, Manny managing to find Craig. That girl could always do that. But at least, she has a purpose this time.

"You lose people because you don't show you care, or you think it's too late to tell them that you care," says Manny to Craig. "Don't isolate yourself because of past wrongs."

"That...was surprisingly deep," praises Craig, stalling.

"Mmm, more like a summary, because I gotta bounce," says Manny. "Party time!"

"Can I go?" inquires Craig.

"No," replies Manny.

"What...what about not isolating myself?" says Craig.

"This is a party for spirits that revert back to their human forms on Christmas," explains Manny. "Very V.I.P. Okay, there's only three of us. But we're party animals, so it's all good."

"And you're celebrating?" prompts Craig.

"Hopefully, your awakening," says Manny. "I'm partying in anticipation that you'll come around. No matter our rocky past, you're still the sweet hottie that gave me a Fluffy Fluff."

"Awww, thanks," remarks Craig. "I guess I...I'm a little more open to hearing different points of view. The best musicians did. Bring on the next ghost."

"Stand still," commands Manny.

Craig obeys, stalling in the fog, white mist shading his eyes. Then, he receives a giant push from Manny, Toby and J.T. taking either side of his arm as he falls. They seemingly fall forever, despite the short distance that propels them from the misty night to Craig's bedroom floor. Toby cries out in pain. Craig's elbow is digging into his stomach.

"Fiction is pain," observes Toby.

"Fact is wack?" suggests J.T.

"Corny," dismisses Toby. "Please tell me we don't have to wait another hour for the next..."

The ringing of Craig's alarm mutes his speech, Toby detecting a strong, fragrant smell seeping in from under the door. J.T. and Craig sniff as well.

"That's not goulash," whispers Craig, opening the door.

"Real gourmet, that Craig," says J.T. "Because the sweet odor is not so foreign to our noses. No, any teenage boy would identify that particular aroma with no trouble..."

"Hot Pockets!" cries a voice from the foot of the steps. "Gotta have the Hot Pockets!"

"Hot Pockets?" repeats Toby in alarm.

Craig is already going down the stairs, Toby and J.T. not too far behind. Some frequent clattering, banging, and ringing reach their ears, in addition to the varieties of smells that greet their nose. All of it...smells fried. The microwave chimes, with a satisfied "Ah" echoing from the room.

"A thief!" whispers Toby, urgently.

"Because all a thief would want from a successful musician would be Hot Pockets?" questions J.T., knocking Toby on the side of the head.

Tip-toeing, the three guys inch their way to the door of the kitchen, peep inside. A figure is removing a plate from the microwave. The hair is spiked, the ears full of earrings, the tongue pierced as he lifts the spray cheese canister to his mouth.

"Spin?" cries Craig.

Spinner faces them, or what Toby believes is Spinner. He's dressed in an unflattering brown cloak, an outfit similar to a medieval friar, with a wreath of holly on his head.

"Craig's pulse raced as he came into contact with one of his former bandmates, surely the most cheery, eager of them all. Their friendship had a rich history, Spinner being the one who found Craig when he ran away two years ago, and Craig being the first to talk to Spinner after the shooting drama. It is only right that Spinner should be selected to aid his fellow men on the most festive of holidays."

"Dude, come closer!" encourages Craig. "Know me better, dude."

"Uhh...don't think I can," shrugs Craig, entering the kitchen regardless. "Interesting...wardrobe."

"Don't knock the gear, man," says Spinner. "It's all flowy and shiz."

"Yeah," says Craig. "Um, Spin, it's been a rough night, already. We haven't talked in ages. And I don't mind, you know, donating some Hot Pockets to your family, but you can't come in here, unannounced..."

"Pizza bagels?" interjects Spinner. "Gotta have the pizza bagels?"

"Pizza bagels, too," promises Craig. "I'll give you those and you can go."

"Donuts?" says Spinner.

"This isn't a bakery! And...and no, no donuts."

"Last sleepover, we had 'em," reminds Spinner. "Man, that was so much fun. You remember that?"

"Actually...I don't," answers Craig, his face falling.

"Of course, he's lying," says J.T. "Craig has many memories with the boys from the Squatch, including the days when they stole the car from the lot, played for his family and Ashley, viewed Joey acting a fool at the wedding. You can't forget those things so easily, and Craig knew it."

"Always such a bad liar," laughs Spinner. "Heh...least I got a snack for our first visit."

"Wait, you're...," begins Craig.

"I'm the Ghost of Christmas Present, the now, the cool, the whole living-in-the-moment vibe," says Spinner, raising the roof with his hands. "No gig comes sweeter."

"Say that when you've played Albert Hall in London," boasts Craig.

"Don't need to," remarks Spinner. "Because I got good friends, including you, who I don't want to see heading for like a miserable life, or whatever."

Craig swallows a lump in his throat. "Don't want that...either."

"Alright then," sighs Spinner, tucking a couple Hot Pockets into his cloak and removing his drumsticks.

"Hey...you still carry your sticks with you!" says Craig, grinning. "That's cool!"

"Eh, drummers never die, Craig," says Spinner, then burping. "They...uh, just get gas. And a one...and a two...and a three..."

Spinner taps his sticks together three times, the darkness fading from the window, sunshine streaming in on the black furniture in the adjoining living room. Craig's mouth parts, as J.T. and Toby smile.

"It's magic," whispers Toby, incredulously.

"It's a story," says J.T.

"It was on beat," praises Craig. "Where we headed first?"

"No answers yet," replies Spinner, indicating for Craig to leave the house.

All of them exit the front door, shoes moving easier in the melting snow, daylight making it easier to see where they're going. Toby recalls Liberty saying that the time is off, can't imagine that it'd be this strange. He checks his digital watch, sees the date.

"Christmas Day," he says, happily.

J.T. nods. They follow Spinner a few blocks, viewing the holiday excitement on the way. The Hatzilakos snowchick is still erect, though it has been given new, more stable arms. Kids toss snowballs, one hitting the storefront of the Dot. Gold bells with red bows on the front of doors glisten in the sunshine. And nobody, not a one, notices any of them.

Finally, they reach a sizeable home, what Toby would call the homes of all homes in this fair town. The Brooks' residence is a large, three-story house, brick, with white colonnades, two luxury automobiles in the driveway. When Jimmy and Ashley were dating regularly, he stopped by to hang with them, seeing as his social life...well, he stopped by to hang with them. Jimmy never minded, as he and Ashley were attempting to reconnect, awkward pauses always managing to show up in their conversations. This will be more awkward– going into their house on Christmas Day, praying the dust works a second time.

"Jimmy's," breathes Craig, beginning to go in the other direction.

Spinner tugs on his arm, pulling him to the house. They glide right through.

The dust works, Toby sighing with relief, the two boys, Craig, and Spinner entering the foyer. A maid carries a tray past them.

"Crackers and cheese!" cries Spinner, trailing her. "This one time at camp..."

"I remember, Spin," insists Craig. "Listen, I don't want to be at Jimmy's."

"He invited you to the Squatch party," points out Spinner.

"Didn't want his pity," says Craig. "Bet he likes to lord his wealth over us. Nice house, Hazel's a nice girlfriend, nice parents..."

"Jimmy's never been like that," interrupts Spinner. "Values friendship more than anything. He was hurt the most when you left for the tour."

"Then why'd he date Ashley?" demands Craig.

"You were busy flip-flopping between Manny and Ellie, dude," says Spinner. "Can't blame him or her for not waiting to see if you were still interested in Ash. They broke up after you said we were dead to you."

Craig lets his gaze drop to the floor, brushes Spinner upon entering a room where laughter is ringing loud and clear. J.T., Toby, and Spinner hover in the doorway.

The room, unsurprising since it's Jimmy, is packed. His parents, dressed in preppy casual designer clothes, are seated on a beautiful, mahogany-colored sofa. Marco and a cloak-less Spinner are standing near glass cases that hold many pricey statuettes and family photos. Hazel and Paige, dressed in similar red and green mini-dresses, respectively, flip through a family album. Despite the Brooks' restrictive choice of furniture, they all look to be having fun. Old songs the Squatch played stream through the speakers of a radio, while Jimmy takes a gulp of red, holiday punch. Hazel rises for a second, takes a plate of jerk chicken from the table, hands it to Jimmy with a kiss on the lips.

"Thanks, Haze," he says. "Holidays wouldn't be right without you."

Playing with the shirt of his pajamas, Craig then folds his arms.

"Seeing what Jimmy mentioned earlier, actually seeing the importance of family, friends, a girlfriend, filled Craig with discomfort. Those hand-made, Italian p.j.s really weren't as good as he made them out to be, offered him little warmth."

"Nothing warmer than coming home to a place of love and happiness," says ghost Spinner, chewing on a Hot Pocket. "Better than going home alone, eh, Craig?"

"That's for Jimmy, not me," says Craig.

"Jimmy, like you, has been through a lot," remarks Spinner. "I, of all people, know that most. Helped him in ways he didn't like at first. Then, stopped treating him like a guy in a wheelchair, and more like a friend."

"Yeah...that was good of you," concedes Craig.

"Then, Jimmy extends an offer of friendship to you. Not from charity, but like...like to make peace. Figure Christmas...right around the new year is when that's important."

"Craig eyed Spinner with awe, sure this isn't the guy who thought health food put you in the red," narrates J.T. "Or maybe...maybe like most of his colleagues, Spin has grown."

Ghost Spinner hungrily bites into his Hot Pocket, sits on the arm of the couch, checking Paige's legs out.

"Or maybe not," adds J.T.

"Know what we need?" says Hazel, cheerfully. "A game."

"I love games!" exclaims Marco.

"What should we play?" asks Paige, setting the album on the table. "Last time we played a game together, it was Pictionary. And thanks to Spinner there, it got slightly graphic."

"The word was dirty!" protests present Spinner.

"Totally was," agrees ghost Spinner.

Mr. Brooks, appearing mortified, clears his throat. "May I suggest What is It? It's relatively simple?"

"Great idea, hon!" exclaims Paige. "I mean, Mr. Brooks."

"I'll start," volunteers Jimmy.

"I love games," whispers future Craig, smiling.

Jimmy wheels to a spot in the room where they can all ask him direct questions. Toby's heard of this game, a guessing game where they had to ask a slew of questions until they got to the right answer. While it's not World of Warcraft, it is fun.

"Is it a cause?" asks Marco.

"No!" laughs Jimmy.

"Future social worker had to ask," shrugs Marco.

"Is it a creature?" asks Hazel.

"Kind of," says Jimmy. "Go on."

"A puppy!" exclaims Spinner. "Yes...yes, you kept hinting you wanted a dog!"

"Uh...no," clarifies Jimmy. "Mom?"

"A kitty," guesses future Craig, coming forward.

Ms. Brooks twirls her necklace. "A kitten?"

"Said it first," says Craig, glaring at Jimmy's mother. "Okay, kitty. Same thing."

"Nope. Dad?"

"Is it found in Degrassi?" prompts Mr. Brooks.

"The community...yes," says Jimmy. "Paige?"

"Is it wanted or unwanted?" asks Paige.

"Unwanted...by many," answers Jimmy, smiling widely. "Marco?"

"A rat?" says Marco.

"Totally cold," remarks Jimmy.

"I've got it!" cries Hazel. "It's a creature that's not a puppy, kitten, or a rat, is unwanted, and is found in this town!"

"What is it, Hazel?" prompts Marco.

"Craig Manning!" exclaims Hazel, clapping her hands.

They all do likewise, Jimmy nodding his reply while laughter fills the room. Future Craig narrows his eyes, tears lining its edges. Coming from Jimmy of all people? Pretty hard pill to swallow. Guess that's what happens when you cut off the last person who tried.

Ghost Spinner rises from the couch, puts an arm around Craig.

"Come," instructs Spinner. "Time grows short."

Toby and J.T trade sorrowful looks, follow their path.


	4. What Child Is This?

**III. What Child Is This? **

"So it's nice to know how they all really feel about me," mumbles Craig, leaning against a nearby car. 

The car beeps suddenly, releasing a string of loud wails. Children pulling a sled race in the other direction. Craig sighs. They were still on the Brooks' street. Spinner is unaffected by the cruel remarks thrown Craig's way, stuffing one last cracker into his mouth. J.T. is the same, looking left to right. Toby feels bad for him, though. He'd hate it if J.T. or any of his other friends criticized him like that.

"Increasingly saddened by what he just heard, Craig wondered if he made the right decision in cutting them all off. And it wasn't merely the fact that he wouldn't have any gifts under his Christmas tree," says J.T.

"How could Jimmy say that?" blasts Craig, startling them. "I found him after he was shot, rushed to get him help. We were so close...like brothers. A bromance."

"Man, if there's a bromance, it's me and Jimmy," argues Spinner.

"Whatever...you guys fight all the time," protests Craig.

"I can't believe this," mutters J.T.

J.T. grabs a handful of snow, makes an orb, and throws it squarely in Craig's face. Craig staggers to the ground. Spinner's eyebrows shoot up as he helps Craig to his feet.

"Bad neighborhood kids," guesses Spinner.

"Now I'm cold," complains Craig.

"Witness to such cruelty, Craig yearned for warmer territory, a sweeter atmosphere," narrates J.T.

"I wonder why," says Toby, frowning at J.T.

"Hey, do you want to stand here and hear this boy bickering, or do you want to move along?" poses J.T.

"A warmer atmosphere?" contemplates Spinner. "Know the perfect place."

Ghost Spinner and the three boys walk along the streets, going several blocks until they reach an unassuming, brick building, a playground in the adjoining area. Toby recognizes it. It's the community center, not too far from where he, J.T., Manny, and Emma squirted water guns and met for the first time. The playground looks exactly the same, except for the snow-covered slide, tire swing, and monkey bars. They enter two glass doors, head to the nearest room.

From outside, they hear awful, bone-tingling, mind-numbing guitar strums, drum solos, and singing. It's the most agonizing performance they've all encountered, except for Paige's Kevin Smith cheer.

"The horror...the horror!" groans Toby, sticking his fingers in his ears.

Once they enter the room, they spy the culprits. All seven of them. They're children playing for their parents, their siblings during a Christmas Day pageant. The room itself is pretty stylish, wreaths and red bows hung along the wall, a red plastic Santa petting a fake reindeer, snowflakes made of tin foil above their heads. Toby removes his fingers hesitantly, taking in the display.

"Play together!" begs a voice Toby knows better than the others.

"Ash?" whispers Craig, starting forward.

Ashley stands in front of the group of children, wildly waving a baton. Despite her best efforts, the group becomes more of a mess. A guitar string snaps, causing a girl with blonde pigtails to cry. A more heavy set boy manages to poke a hole in the lid of his drum with his fist, laughing joyfully. One of the other boys Toby is certain he's seen, the child banging his triangle with excessive force, trying to find the rhythm.

"_Sleep in heavenly peace...sleep in heavenly peace_," sing a pair of twin girls with caramel-colored hair.

Ashley points to the boy with the triangle. He clangs it three times.

"_Do you know how to touch...a girl_?" sings Jack, over the clatter. "_If you want me so much, first I had to know..." _

"Jack!" cries Ashley, slamming her forehead. 

The parents gasp, folding their arms as J.T. crouches from deep laughter. Toby's jaw drops, glancing at Craig, who appears similarly flummoxed. Jack couldn't have been more than four or five, and this tune wasn't right for the occasion at all. Not to mention his voice is horribly out of tune. Luckily, the other students aren't encouraging him, having stopped playing.

"_Are you thoughtful and kind?_" continues Jack, closing his eyes. "_Do you care what's on my mind?" _

"No!" barks the boy, throwing his drum on the floor. 

"Hey, you don't treat a drum like that," remarks ghost Spinner, protectively. "What'd you think, Craig?"

"This is beyond bad," answers Craig, grabbing at his curls. "The rhythm's atrocious, the instruments are on their last leg, and...poor Ash."

Ashley raises the baton and makes a final flourish, their signal to end. Thankfully, they do. Toby clutches his stomach. Ugh, who knew bad music could give you a stomachache? That, or maybe he's just really hungry. He wanders off to grab a couple Christmas cookies, the kind with multi-colored sprinkles. Surprisingly, Ashley joins him, clutching the table for support as the kids leave the stage and go find their parents. Aww, no cookies for him, since she'd be freaked to see cookies mysteriously fly off a plate.

Toby would have to agree. Poor Ashley. She told him she'd be doing something creative during the holidays, and he guesses this was it.

"At least it wasn't as bad as the Christmas show at Degrassi," consoles Toby.

Then again, she can't hear him, can she? From the corner of his eye, he sees the others approaching, including Craig.

"Looks like we're both having a bad Christmas Day," says Craig, viewing her.

"If only we had better instruments," whispers Ashley to herself. "If I had some help. And these kids so wanted to impress their parents."

"Craig could identify with both those desires," says J.T. "Together, he and Ashley brought a priceless guitar. That was taken from him by Skinny, and he didn't forget that awful day, more awful than this one, certainly. And whenever he played on tour, he envisioned Julia and Joey being proud of him. Part of him wouldn't have minded pleasing Albert too, despite their rocky past."

They're all interrupted by Jack Simpson, blue-eyed, blonde, in green pants and a matching jacket, running to Ashley. Craig spies Sean coming as well, red scarf wound around his neck.

"Great show," comments Sean.

"You lie," sighs Ashley, faking a smile. "At least the kids...stood in the right place."

She bends down to Jack, hands on her knees.

"Jack, for the New Year's celebration, are you going to sing the right song?" asks Ashley, gently.

"All that matters is that you sing from your heart," replies Jack.

Craig grins, even though the answer causes Ashley to raise her eyes in alarm. Sean ruffles Jack's hair. Jack skips away, happily.

"Sean, do you ever think Jack might be...tone-deaf?" whispers Ashley.

"Well, music doesn't exactly run in the Simpson or Nelson family trees," explains Sean. "He always wants to sing, though. It's hard on all of us since he can't, and most of the songs...uh, not appropriate."

"I noticed...where's he getting this music from?"

"Have no idea, honestly."

"Hmmm, hopefully my determination and perfectionism will rub off on him," shrugs Ashley. "Because he really is the sweetest kid."

"Thanks," says Sean, squeezing Ashley's arm. "Merry Christmas."

Craig's eyes fall to Sean's hand touching her.

"Hands off," warns Craig, crossing his arms. "I'm still your boss. You hear me?"

"Craig jealousy alert," moans Spinner, pulling Craig away. "Let's get you out of here. We gotta follow Sean and Jack."

"Jack!" calls Sean.

"_I should make a move, but I won't_," sings Jack, winding his tiny arms around Sean's waist. "_I know you're probably thinking something is wrong...knowing if I do, then it won't be right. I don't get down on the first night!" _

"That's enough for now," says Sean, putting his hand on Jack's mouth. 

Unfortunately, the action prompts the heavy set boy with the broken drum and his mother to approach them. The boy digs up his nose, chuckles silently.

"Your son is a disgrace to this fine institution," huffs the mother. "Worst of them all."

"He's not my son," clarifies Sean. "But he has just as much of a right to sing and play as the rest of the kids."

"Heck, I'll pay for the lessons to get him in the same league as my Neil," offers the mother.

"No one's paying," speaks up Ashley. "This is all for fun."

"Scouts come to community productions," insists Neil's mother. "They don't want a tone-deaf kid stinking up the chorus. Take the money...it'd be well-spent."

"We don't need your hand-outs," bristles Sean. "I work hard and none of us need your charity."

"Didn't you used to live in a trailer park?" says the woman. "Saw you in the news. The hero of Degrassi?"

Sean shakes his head, and they're all surprised that he's not saying anything. He most likely didn't want to start anything with Jack present. Hmmm, guess he has matured since the arrest.

"What you can do is get your kid a decent drum," interjects Ashley.

"Perhaps," shrugs Neil's mother, leaving them.

"Merry Christmas, guys," says Ashley. "Bye Jack."

Jack waves, manages to lift Sean's hand and whistles on the way out of the room. J.T. motions for Toby to go, though he does look back to see Craig assess the instruments with a disgusted frown.

"Perhaps because of the recent humiliation after the trip to Jimmy's, Craig knew what it felt like to be at the brunt of harsh criticism. Unlike Sean, he never struggled with money, and unlike Jack, he never struggled with his voice. He figured those were far worse situations to be in."

Spinner guides Craig to the door, and the ghostly crew trump through the snow in a straight path.

"You'd think after hearing that raucous song, that mother would've paid for them all to get instruments," says Craig. "She noticed they lacked talent, knows scouts show up..."

Craig stares ahead at Jack, clumsily trying to navigate his way through the thick snow. Sean finally picks him up, sets him on his shoulders.

"As Craig watched the young, aspiring musician, his heart ached with pity, hoped with promise. What if Jack could actually sing? Be the next Bono, Bruce Springsteen, Clay Aiken? Okay, maybe not Clay Aiken," says J.T.

"_If I was invisible...wait, I already am_," kids Toby.

"Pretty good, Toby," compliments J.T. "And...also pretty scary that you know that."

"A lot of free nights to watch TV," confesses Toby.

"Jack may never get his chance," breathes Craig as they finally arrive at the door of a townhouse. "Then...he'll die, like Joey, with no hit records."

"Well, if they're going to die, let them do it and decrease the untalented population," says Spinner, giving Craig a sad grin.

"Oh, Spinner," breathes Craig. "I...I didn't mean..."

"Craig said that earlier," reminds J.T.

"My memory's not that bad!" whispers Toby. "Just...just my game. Man, I want a date."

"This should lift your spirits," promises J.T.

Shoving Toby gently to the door, they walk right through, Toby guessing the effects of the dust must last as long as a stretch of that one Saturday detention. With that kiss from Hazel. Toby grins at J.T., J.T. backing away from him a little.

Seconds later, Sean has unlocked the door, Jack racing into the room where they stand. The home is modest, but neat and colorful. With aquamarine walls, sturdy furniture, nature magazines on the counter, and a working stove emitting wonderful smells, it's the complete opposite of Craig's cold abode. Best of all is a long table, completely set, with a centerpiece in the middle, sunflowers stuffed into the hole of the log Craig remembers giving Sean.

"Sean Cameron's apartment!" cries Craig. "Oh, you can tell this is an inviting crib. Thanks for bringing me here, Spin."

They hear the clatter of pots and pans from another room, a shapely blond that Toby has been crushing on since he first arrived at Degrassi arriving in the doorway. Jack immediately runs to her. Emma Nelson wipes her hand on her _Kiss the Conservationist _apron before stooping down to Jack.

"Go get ready for Christmas dinner," she instructs.

Jack obediently runs past Sean and into a room down the hallway.

"How was he at the center today?" asks Emma.

Sean unfurls his scarf. "As good as you'd expect. Before he went on, he said he hoped people heard him, and were reminded that talent takes time."

"Awww," sigh Craig, Toby, and J.T. in unison.

"Sounds like Jack," praises Emma. "We should all be active instead of sitting around and doing nothing. That's why I've been slaving away all day to create the perfect dinner."

"And the log?" says Sean.

"Well, the dog kept trying to hump it, so finally did something with it," admits Emma.

"Who's humping?" asks a sleepy voice down the hall.

Manny yawns, stretches her arms. Toby's sure she's not supernatural anymore, clothed in a short, black dress that hid her body.

"Leave it to Manny to show when we're discussing hormones," teases Emma.

"We should really get Raditch neutered, Em," scolds Sean.

"I know...I listen to Bob Barker," says Emma. "Anyways, he's with my parents. Since I insisted on eating with you guys, and Jack threatened to sing to them if he couldn't come here for dinner, they're using Raditch to cure their empty nest syndrome."

Emma throws her hands into the air, apparently not put off by the odd family arrangement. Toby doesn't blame his MI teacher and his wife for heading for the hills, though. Jack's voice murders ears.

"Manny was a routine visitor at Sean and Emma's apartment, presently living with Emma's parents after a fall-out with her father. Her contributions whenever she came over? Being Emma's ever-present listening ear and telling Sean he's cuckoo bananas for working with Craig Manning," says J.T.

"You're cuckoo bananas for working with Craig," says Manny, patting Sean on the shoulder. "What'd you have to do to get the day off? Donate an organ to him?"

"Nothing," says Sean, grinning. "He can be nice..."

"When he's not being a total player," remarks Manny. "He played me...twice. Sean, you've never done that."

"Hey, we all make mistakes," says Sean, pulling out a chair for Manny.

Manny flops down in it, silently twisting her hair. Craig glances at the entrance to the kitchen guiltily.

"I pay Sean so little," observes Craig. "Spin, it just isn't enough."

"Sean's only working there to get money to open his own customs car shop," says Emma, disappearing into the kitchen.

"He didn't tell me that!" cries Craig. "I mean, in passing, he may've said..."

"Has he ever shown an interest in music?" asks Spinner. "Come on! He's like...the only guy in that school to never have been in Downtown Sasquatch. Except J.T. and Toby, but they're...J.T. and Toby."

"Hey!" cry J.T. and Toby, jointly.

"So going on my least favorite ghost part of the survey," says J.T. with a loud harrumph.

Craig cocks his head to the side, stands to the right of the table. Emma reenters, carrying in bowls of food, steaming dishes that make Toby even more hungry. There were spots for four people: Emma, Manny, Sean, and Jack.

"Taking in the different vegetarian options, Craig realized that he hadn't seen a family sit down for dinner in more than a year. The sight made him think back on many a good meal with his mom, Joey, and Angie. This time-honored tradition for Sean and his guests looked appealing and tasty. Too bad Craig doesn't know what a good cook my grandmother is. Mmmm mmm good."

"Sprouts, beans, steamed cabbage, vegetables and rice," lists Emma, undoing her apron. "Then the piece de resistance, tofurkey."

Manny drops her napkin purposely, whispers, "Should've gone to Darcy's."

"I...I haven't had tofurkey," stammers Sean. "Ummmm, let's eat."

"Such a small tofurkey...Sean won't get the full experience," says Craig.

Jack scurries into the living room, in a blue sweatshirt and jeans. He takes a place near Manny, as the rest of them sit.

"Hmm, Jack, would you like to bless the food?" asks Emma.

"Okay," agrees Jack.

Everyone, including the invisible members of the party, bow their heads in anticipation. Respect isn't only a thing for the visible, thinks Toby.

"_Oh baby, baby_," sings Jack. "_My loneliness is killing me...I must confess I still believe...when I'm not with you, I lose my mind...oh, give me a sign...hit me baby one more time!" _

Sean starts to violently cough into his napkin, grabs his water glass. Manny giggles. Emma lets her head fall to the table. 

"Wow, it's...it's worse than I thought," whispers Craig to Spinner.

"Jack, that's not a prayer!" chastises Emma. "What are you listening to at Mom and Dad's house?"

"It's...it's not Mom and Dad's house," defends Jack. "It's...the ipod."

Emma turns to Sean.

"Don't look at me...don't have cash for one," says Sean. "Still using a CD player. I promise."

"Well, I listen to aboriginal music," admits Emma. "So it must be coming from..."

Manny drops her head, whistles as she plays with her nails. Emma narrows her eyes at her best friend.

"Why does everyone always look at me like that?" cries Manny. "He must've found mine, and that Britney track's been M.I.A. since forever."

"Emma, blaming Manny isn't going to do anything," says Sean.

"Thanks, bicep boy," says Manny, smiling.

"Yeah," sighs Emma. "Know who we should be blaming? People like Craig Manning. Musicians, that are actual musicians, but hide away. So artists without any substance are front and center, thus prompting kids to learn their music without substance."

"Me?" exclaims Craig, going near Emma.

"She does have a right to her opinions," speaks up Spinner. "Of course, Emma always has an opinion...which she'll share...without you wanting her to. Ugh, during her science project that I helped with. Man, I want health food again."

Thanks to the heated discussion, Spinner manages to scoop some sprouts without anyone detecting any movement.

"Get a grip, Em," warns Manny. "You know you break out when you're stressed. And hello, prom's on the horizon."

"Forget prom!" shouts Emma.

Sean, Manny, and Jack gasps, though Toby can tell Jack has no idea what a prom is. Jack stabs at the tofurkey with his fork.

"If your boss actually cared for the musical half of this community, he'd work with these kids, like Ashley," says Emma, more calmly. "That's all I'm saying."

"Can we stop criticizing and eat?" sighs Sean.

The request seems to be heeded, Emma zipping her lips and taking the bowl of bean sprouts. Sean stops Jack from poking the tofurkey. Jack taps the log instead.

"What's this wood?" questions Jack.

"Craig gave me that log," explains Sean.

"To Craig," says Jack, breezily. "The giver of wood."

Manny spits out some water, doubling over in laughter. Her reaction can't be matched by the full smile on Craig's face, however, especially when Sean, Emma, and Manny toast Jack's proclamation.

"God bless Emma!" says Jack, raising his water glass. "Then...everyone else."

"God bless Emma!" repeat Manny and Sean, clinking glasses.

Emma blushes. "Guys...it's not like Degrassi won't go on without me."

J.T. shares a long look with Toby, the two boys smirking. Spinner wraps an arm around Craig, as night shows itself outside the apartment window. The drumsticks' charm must be wearing off, good for half the day, or maybe the time seems faster in a happier home.

"Will Jack ever...ever sing better?" asks Craig.

Spinner's eyes fall to the floor.

"If things continue as they are, I see an ipod without a listener," says Spinner, softly. "Dude's dream will cease to be."

"I already let my sister down," breathes Craig. "Our dream for her to come back. No kid should..."

"Should Jack suffer the same fate?" asks Spinner after Craig loses his words.

Craig hugs himself, going to the corner as the diners begin to eat. Jack, the smallest, can barely see past the tofurkey to his sister. He appears so vulnerable, especially his tiny, weak throat that hasn't been trained.

"Show me no more," begs Craig when Spinner comes to him.

"Afraid I won't, but someone else will," shares Spinner.

Without moving, without his drumstick, the door to the apartment parts, a blast of chilly wind blowing in. Spinner nods for Craig to go, Craig silently exiting with J.T. and Toby. None of them can scarcely move after Sean closes the door, shutting off the warmth.

**How to Touch A Girl is the property of Jojo.**

**The First Night is the property of Monica**

**Baby One More Time is the property of Britney Spears. I personally have nothing against pop music or these artists. Meh. :)**


	5. God Rest Ye Merry Gentleman

**III. God Rest Ye Merry Gentleman**

Having newly thawed hands and hot cheeks, they were all surprised by the blistering cold that jumped on their faces. Spinner buries his hands inside his cloak, intent on their direction. Likewise, Craig, J.T., and Toby trudge through the slushy streets. Toby has no clue where J.T.'s tale will lead them next, yet he's noted that Craig's mood has been dampened considerably. Jack's singing, especially after hearing it for himself, could do that to anyone, but it has to be something else. Is the message finally sinking in...has Craig learned the error of his egotistical ways? Nah, as he spies Craig purposely bump Spinner into a puddle of mud so he could have the cleaner right of way.

"Watch it!" cries Spinner. "This is a Triple Five Soul, first-rate hoodie!"

"I won these slippers in a celebrity auction, sponsored by Paul McCartney," returns Craig. "Excuse me for protecting expensive footwear."

"Well, you won't need it where you'll end up," says Spinner, smiling.

Craig is ready to say something else too, his mouth closing instead. Where were they going? Toby elbows J.T. through the wool of his costume jacket.

"We're almost in the vicinity...and now," whispers J.T.

Spinner glances at Craig before tapping his drumsticks together. It grows chillier, much chiller, brisk winds blowing Craig's curls, J.T.'s top hat, and the sides of Toby's glasses. Only Spinner appears wind-resistant, tossing a cube of cheese into his mouth as their surroundings shift from a typical street to the center square of Degrassi. They're right at the Dot. Craig stares around him in awe.

"Not this place again!" mutters Toby. "Why are we going to the same places? What, Craig can't have a life-altering moment in Bermuda? Jamaica?"

"Oooh, I want to take ya...to Bermuda, Bahamas, come on, pretty mama," jokes J.T.

"You get my point," says Toby, rolling his eyes.

"Like I've said, before only Christmases, Toby," says J.T.

"Fine," sighs Toby.

"Do you know this place?" asks Spinner.

"Um, yeah," answers Craig. "I've only met Ashley, Manny, or Ellie here a billion times. Date central, I used to call it."

"Well, it's Party Central for me," informs Spinner. "Gotta go in, and get the next ghost. And if they don't talk...uh, don't take it personal. It's just the way they roll."

Spinner raises Craig's fist, bumping it with his. "Alright! And dude, wise up or your time's up. Ya heard?"

Beaming, Spinner ducks into the Dot, Craig blinking in confusion behind him. Based on the long wait, TobyÕ' not expecting this particular ghost to be in good spirits, and neither is Craig according to his grim frown. The bells on the Dot door chime. Danny and Derek's snowchick has disappeared completely. It is a source of cheer Toby would've liked to have seen. Another round of bells signals the door opening again.

In the doorframe stands a petite, stark figure in a flowing, black robe made of felt, the hood obscuring the ghost's face. It doesn't walk so much as clump, the hard soles of its shoes crushing the snow. The figure moves all the way to Craig, folds its arms.

"Are you the spirit whose coming was mentioned to me?" asks Craig.

The figure nods.

"You won't speak?" says Craig, hopefully.

He's met with a slow shake of the head.

"Oh, spirit, I'm scared of you the most," breathes Craig. "You know...you just...give off this vibe and..."

There are no more polite gestures, only the figure kicking him in the shin.

"Owww," moans Craig.

"Thank you," whispers J.T., eyes going upward. "Less yakking, more walking."

Toby's about to add his agreement when he hears a rapid shuffling of feet, two distinct bursts of laughter. He's tempted to shade himself from the two former sources of his daily bullying at Degrassi.

"Place was loaded!" cries Jay Hogart, baseball cap on backwards. "Tricked out electronics, tight clothes, insane wads of cash under the mattress..."

"He never gave anything away," says Alex. "I mean, I knew he wasn't poor when we were in school, but this...this is like winning the freakin' lotto."

"I always got that one annoying cherry," laments Jay, playfully. "But now...jackpot."

Jay has reason to boast, Toby taking in what each of them is holding. Alex held several garment bags, tailored suits peaking through the material; a satchel containing an iPhone, iBook, and two digital cameras; five pairs of designer sunglasses tucked into the pocket of the bag; and several rings on her fingers. Jay held even more because of his size: three gold watches on each arm; a sack containing dozens of CDs, a BlackBerry, and portable TV; a leather jacket hanging from his shoulder, with a glittering, stylish harmonica in its pocket. They look as if they were returning from a stint on those Real World/Road Rules challenges or...a robbery. Toby raises his eyes in alarm.

"I know Alex works at the mall...looks like they bought the mall," says Craig, shrugging at the spirit.

"Mmmm, the jacket's still warm too...the harmonica probably has his spit in it," brags Jay.

"Sell it on ebay. Stupid girls pay for stupid stuff like famous guy hair or sweat or whatever," suggests Alex. "I got stuff I always wanted."

"He didn't have any relatives to give this stuff to? I mean...even I gave my mom a new subscription to _Soap Opera Digest_ and my dad stolen cable," says Jay.

"Nah," says Alex. "Something happened to his folks, and then...well, it doesn't matter because we are getting hooked up!"

"Woot!" cheers Jay.

"That jacket's the only warmth that guy ever had!" laughs Alex.

Jay joins in, ushering for her to start down the street. As they go, the harmonica slips from the jacket, hitting the sidewalk. If the noise wasn't covered by their chuckling, they would've noticed. Craig bends, retrieves the lost instrument.

"Familiar," whispers Craig. "Might be a purchase from the store."

The black shadow created by the hood meets his eyes.

"Who's this jerk they're talking about?" questions Craig.

There's no answer supplied by the spirit. It motions for them to go the opposite path of Alex and Jay, towards the back alley of Degrassi Grocery. Toby remembered this place well. Sean and Jimmy fought here, Jay and Rick according to Emma's stories...man, maybe he better not follow. He wasn't trying to get his glasses broken or anything. This dust better not result in him lying in the dust. The one plus is that Emma has to be there in order to be a fight, so yeah, maybe he's in the clear. He holds his breath as two boys jog to the center of the alley, stop.

"What'd you score?" asks Chester.

"Tough still," says Chris, revealing a mini-recorder. "This is gonna help me with my beatboxing skills fo' sho'."

"I know that's right," commends Chester. "I got this."

Chester holds a guitar pick. Craig walks to him, looks over his shoulder. There's a silver signature on it.

"Autograph," identifies Craig. "By Springsteen?! Man, I have one of those at the store. He swore I was the only one that had that! Bruce...Bruce duped me!"

"The whole place is bare," sighs Chester.

"Bro had it coming," condemns Chris. "That's what happens when you b-b-b-bad. Be a stingy creep, don't keep your word, that's why you a chump that just got served!Ó

"Word!" shouts Chester, high-fiving Chris.

"I'm beat," says Chris. "Let's bounce."

Craig watches them leave the alley, shivering a bit. There is no relief from the chill. Craig shakes the most.

"Harmonica in hand, Craig could only mull over his lost thoughts. Who was this man whom they all hated? Why did these items look so familiar? Did he truly deserve to have these things stolen? When was Chris' album coming out?" narrates J.T.

"Huh?" says Toby.

"Okay, that last question is mine," admits J.T. "Chris and I were sorta friends...back in the day. I like him."

"Better than...better than me?" stammers Toby.

"No," says J.T.

Toby grins. His countenance is not matched by Craig, who wearily stands next to the spirit, watching him intently.

"I know why you've shown me this," says Craig, refusing to look at the spirit. "It's because the fate of this man could be...could be mine. Is that right?"

The spirit doesn't move in the slightest.

"Speak!" yells Craig, his voice echoing in the alley.

The echo is the sole sound in the area.

"This is...this is not my store...what they were discussing?" encourages Craig. "I spent money on the best security, hired the most faithful workers...well, worker. This is not my store!"

A cold grasp takes his arm, the figure's pale, white fingers, nails with black polish, taking the harmonica. It reveals a price tag on the bottom. Eight hundred. Eight hundred for a harmonica, thinks Toby. Wow, he could buy a computer for that.

Rather than say if this is any clue, Craig shakes further, throws the harmonica to the ground. He paces back and forth, mist from his breath floating in the late afternoon. As he paces, he grabs his hair, pulls at his pajamas, glances at the sky.

"Show me something good, so that I know it still exists," whispers Craig, stopping in front of the spirit. "Show me some comfort."

The figure points past the alley, and they exit. The free air is welcome to Toby, since the alley felt so heavy, so stifling. A slow walk is welcome to all of them. Sure enough, J.T. is right, Christmas decorations on every house. Fake reindeer adorn the lawns, nativity scenes are situated before hedges, tinsel shimmers in the windows. But there are no people. No people?

They stall at a townhouse, a townhouse they visited not too long ago. The outside appears to be the same, though there is no smoke from the chimney and no one is going inside.

"Oh, thanks for bringing me here, spirit!" says Craig, a smile crossing his face. "This is Sean's place! There was so much laughter and joy last time!"

Craig steps forward, rests for a bit on the stoop. All of them hear faint weeping. Craig's smile fades. The spirit walks through the door. Craig glances back briefly, hesitantly does the same. J.T. and Toby also have no trouble repeating the awkward entrance.

So much has changed. Gone is the color, replaced by drab grey and brown furniture, the tables bare and worn. There are no more wonderful smells, only the faint scent of floor wax. A tiny plastic tree is in the corner with a few ornaments that look ready to fall apart. Toby shifts his head to the right, observes Emma crying as she dices an onion. Well, now the crying makes sense. She wears a dark green sweater and black pants.

"When's Sean getting here?" moans Manny, coming into the room.

Manny was in her typical dress, a form-fitting purple shirt with long sleeves and a miniskirt. She was obviously agitated, however.

"Soon. He walks a little faster these days," replies Emma.

"I hope he picked me up Alicia Keys' new album like he promised," sighs Manny, crashing on the grey couch.

"Wait...Manny's living here?" asks Toby.

"Yeah," says J.T. "Because of yet another fall out with her parents, Manny left home and is mooching off Sean and Emma. Of course, this means that her acting goals are on hold. She baby-sits Jack for cash or gets her sugar daddy Damien to buy her things. But she's not the only one that's had a hard year."

"This is one year later?" balks Toby.

"You're catching on," says J.T., appreciatively.

"Guess what Damien got me on Black Friday?" says Manny.

"He gave you your present that early?" questions Emma, her eyes bugging out.

"No, he's been buying me daily presents since Black Friday," explains Manny. "He got me pearl earrings first and the gifts have been improving and improving."

"How about getting a job so you can pay for stuff yourself?" says Emma.

Manny's mouth drops. "I have an audition in March! Honestly, Em..."

"Well, come watch this pie at least," pleads Emma. "I have to check on Jack."

Manny moans as she stands, passes Emma on the way to the kitchen. Emma goes to straighten a side table in the living room, Toby gasping as he notices that there's a bald patch behind a few strays of hair on the right side of her head. Was that the style...or did Emma like her stepfather's 'do? He figured Spike would help her in some way since she's a hairdresser.

Toby's eyes leave Emma as Sean makes his way into the room, with Ashley coming in next. Ashley didn't look too different, but Sean was as thin as a rail. Toby can see his ribs as Sean hangs his coat and Ashley's. Of course, Craig being Craig, smiles widely at the appearance of his former girlfriend. Ashley lifts her black skirts as she sits on the couch.

"Jack will be with you in a minute," reassures Emma, then going down the hall.

After Emma leaves, Sean sits next to Ashley.

"We've picked out a great therapist for him," says Ashley, softly. "Best in Toronto. He'd get personal attention, he'd meet other children like him..."

Ashley pauses as Jack enters the room, earmuffs covering his small pink ears. Emma ruffles his blonde hair.

"Hi Jack," greets Ashley.

Jack removes his earmuffs, wrinkles his nose.

"You remember your teacher Ashley...right, Jack?" says Emma.

"_Think you gotta keep me iced, you don't. Think I'm gonna spend your cash, I won't. Even if you were broke, my love don't cost a thing_," sings Jack.

The voice is as bad as they remember, Craig gagging. Toby shakes his head. The spirit has the same reaction which makes Toby smirk.

"Speaking of cash...we can't really pay for his next session," confesses Sean, turning red.

"Oh," breathes Ashley. "We'll...we'll work something..."

"I can't deal with this anymore!" interrupts Emma. "People are staying inside their homes to get away from him. I hate it...I...I..."

Emma bursts into tears, Sean going to hold her. Jack removes his earmuffs, starts jumping on the couch. You'd never know he was the town pariah, thinks Toby.

"Every day it's bad pop song after bad pop song!" wails Emma. "This is worse than when he ate dog food...or that hot dog at the fair!"

Sean pats her back as she sobs.

"I really think music therapy is the answer, guys," says Ashley. "Hey, I struggled when I first started learning."

Craig stares at her admiringly. Ashley was always modest about her music. Besides, she can't be nearly as bad as Jack. He'd hide in his home, too, if Jack were on the loose.

"The boy's tart tongue and tone deaf ways carried so loudly in the streets of Degrassi, they hid in their residences to escape his cacophonous carols. Away in a Manger sent them away. His rendition of Frosty the Snowman made their blood run icy cold. His First Noel made seven five-year olds cry," shares J.T.

"Wow," says Toby.

"Jack, we're going to help you," says Ashley, putting a hand on his shoulder.

"You don't teach no more?" replies Jack.

"Ashley could only remain silent," says J.T. "Because of her fervent protection of Jack, Neil's mother met with the other parents and the head of the community center, and agreed to remove Ashley from her position. Ashley chose that time to lecture them on the need for new instruments and other changes that would benefit the center's music program. Her vocal plea fell on deaf ears...pun! Anyway, she was banned from the center for her views."

"Man, that sucks," breathes Toby.

There was a knock at the door, which interested Jack more than why Ashley wasn't talking. Emma opens the door, stares helplessly at a policeman and a policewoman.

"Got a call about a domestic disturbance," says the policeman, showing his badge.

"We're just talking," says Emma.

"Nah, I heard that kid singing again," complains the policewoman. "Anyway, your neighbors called. This is the seventeenth time this month."

"Officer, it won't happen again," says Sean, guiding Emma to the side.

"That's what you always say...and lo and behold, we're here telling you to keep his trap shut!" says the policewoman.

"I don't like your tone!" argues Emma, getting in her face.

"Nobody likes your kid's tone!" she returns.

"He's my brother, and it's called freedom of speech, or did they teach you that in the police academy?" shouts Emma.

"As loud as her brother," says the policeman to his partner. "Do you talk to him like that? Huh?"

Emma rolls her eyes.

"It's not like the kid is killing anybody," whispers Craig to the spirit. "He's...what, five?"

"And a half," corrects J.T. despite Craig's inability to hear him. "Aw, remember when he was born? When Emma found her dad Shane McKay?"

"Who is Shane McKay?" questions Toby.

"Exactly," says J.T., winking to no one in particular. "FDP!"

Toby ignores J.T.'s little aside, refocuses on the police interrogating Emma further on the treatment of her brother.

"Jack," says the policewoman. "How are you? Are you well?"

"_Are you sick of guys who come on strong?"_ sings Jack. "_Who just want to see you wearing a tight thong?"_

"What!" exclaims the policewoman.

"_I don't even know what a thong is...but a got an A-plus on the Teen Chump quiz_," continues Jack. "_So sit back, relax, I won't hit on you...just let yourself drown in my big baby blues."_

"What a horrible song!" cries the policewoman.

"I sang the clean part," insists Jack, climbing off the couch.

"This household is obviously the wrong type of environment for him to be in," says the policewoman. "Not only is he out of tune, he's out of line. That's it! We're removing him!"

"No!" cries Emma. "Jack...Jack. Please tell them you..you want to stay."

"_Take me away...take me far away from here, I will run with you_," sings Jack.

"You see?" says the policewoman.

"It's a song he heard on the radio!" insists Emma. "Please, don't take him! My parents will be so livid! Snake's already mad Sean and I are living together! I've been pulling my hair out because of all this stress!"

"Oh, that explains it!" says J.T.

Toby furrows his brow in frustration. Emma and Sean would always be a sore spot for him. He also notes that the figure is huffing quietly at that last remark, for whatever reason.

"Pack his things...we're taking him to the children's hospital for now," says the policeman.

"On Christmas?" exclaims Sean. "We'll come with you."

"He hasn't had any food!" says Emma.

"Jack?" says the policewoman.

"No, Sean," says Emma. "He...he only eats dinner. A bowl of soup."

Emma drops her head in embarassment.

"I'm...I'm out of work," he finishes for her. "The bills are adding up. If it means one meal a day, and a glass of water, so be it. Jack has to eat, Manny has to eat, and Emma, she's eating if I have to say anything about it."

"Save the sob story and get your Romeo a Lunchable," says the policeman, picking up Jack. "I canÕt feel sorry for people who let children listen to filth."

Sniffling, Emma retreats to Jack's bedroom and Sean grabs his coat. Ashley rises, puts her hands on her hips.

"Uh-oh," anticipates Toby.

"I've taught both of your children to play the piano," reminds Ashley, staring the officers down. "With Jack, it'll take a little longer and a person with more expertise, but..."

"No buts...this is for the good of the community, ma'am," says the policeman.

Emma holds a Jimmy Neutron suitcase by the handle. She kisses Jack on the cheek, sobs more when Sean helps her into her coat. Emma hands the policewoman his suitcase.

"_The hardest part of breaking up is getting back your stuff_," sings Jack.

They all groan in agony as Jack's voice fills the stairwell, the room, several sets of ears. Toby swears his lenses almost cracked.

"I love you, Jack," whispers Emma.

"I love...ice cream," says Jack.

"They'll have all the ice cream you can eat," says the policewoman, then in a harsher tone towards Emma. "_At the children's hospital._"

"You smoke, don't you?" blasts Emma.

"Emma!" warns Sean.

"Only a lack of nicotine would make you all...," begins Emma, Sean covering her mouth.

"Don't bother coming!" barks the policewoman.

Toby's certain the spirit is giggling under its hood. Craig tugs on its arm, though, not at all amused.

"Spirit, you have to do something," begs Craig. "I mean, you can do magic...or stop this...Jack can't leave. He needs...he needs his family."

Craig lets the arm go, stares at the floor.

"Those last four words struck home," narrates J.T. "Craig had lost family, disrespected his surrogate father, been cruel to his friends, his girlfriends. He knew his selfish tendencies would eventually catch up to him. But Jack...oh, poor sweet Jack, whose only crime lay in his love of music in all its many forms, was being taken from the family and home he loved so well, ice cream the only promise at the darker end."

"Rocky Road!" cries Jack.

"Say so long, Jack," instructs the policewoman.

"So long, Jack!" repeats Jack. "Where are we going?"

The officers start down the stairwell, the spirit obviously not doing anything. Toby wishes it would, yet he's quite aware this is a lesson, not for him, but for Craig. Emma collapses to the floor, the tears coming faster than she can wipe them away. Sean takes her into his arms.

"Pie's done!" calls Manny.

J.T. glances at Toby guiltily as his stomach rumbles.

"I'm not sure how to turn the oven off," says Manny.

Emma rises quickly in anger, Ashley dodging to the side as Emma heads to Manny.

"You're not sure how to do anything!" denounces Emma. "How to find the unemployment office, how to search the want ads, how to contribute!"

"Okay, Em, you're just jealous," says Manny, pretending to yawn.

"Don't attack her, Emma," says Sean.

"It was her ipod!" cries Emma. "And now it's..."

They all stare at the couch, an ipod wedged in between its cushions. Emma bellows as she digs it out, clutches it to her chest. Apparently not fazed, Manny hugs her best friend from the side, Sean doing the same.

"Not Jack,Ó"whispers Craig, tearing up. "No..."

"You did all you could," comforts Ashley, going to hug Emma.

The figure leads Craig to the door, the four travellers exiting the forlorn townhouse. Night had come, the wind having remained strong. Craig turned his back to the gusts, aimlessly stumbling under the stars. The figure doesn't seem to stop him, choosing to let Craig wander. They pass the last two houses of the street, see an open area. It's not an open area, realizes Toby. It's a cemetary, positioned flowers popping up through the snow. Frost covers the names. A twig snaps off a tree. Craig stands at the edge momentarily, proceeds to go inside.

"What lead him here, he couldn't say. Why he felt so alive in this instant, he couldn't tell. Do all musicians walk through the darkness, have to endure troubled lives? How long is a musician's life anyway? They dictated it for you...the people, the fans. What if they didn't love you? They didn't want to hear you...hated your personality? What if it all went away?" says J.T.

Toby is about to remark at his surprise of that deep statement from his prankster friend, when the moon finds Craig, Craig crying in its light.

"What if I died?" breathes Craig.

The figure stands by his side. It points to a pool of water amidst the snow, the moon illuminating it as well. To Toby, it resembles a small TV, showing a fuzzy image. One of the peach blobs looks a lot like Paige. Heh, it's her shopping network show from earlier, when they were at Craig's for the first time.

"For sale or better buy!" says Paige, cheerfully. "A handy-dandy, gold-plated harmonica. Get 'em now cause they're selling like hotcakes, hon."

"The harmonica was mine," whispers Craig. "It was from my store...my store's gone."

"From our special stock, so special I can't say where we got 'em," says Paige. "But I think we know where, right, folks?"

A studio audience, dressed in various types of winter gear chuckle at that.

"Gee, Paige, I wonder if that's all you have from this special stock?" says Spinner in fake surprise.

"As it just so happens, no!" remarks Paige. "We've got autographed guitars, fancy smancy keyboards, and Furbies!"

"Angie's old Furbies?" whispers Craig, eyes widening.

Spinner proudly holds up a Furby, and it chirps.

"Mine's name is Freckles," says Spinner, giving the thumbs up.

"And it's all for...fifty dollars or less!" shouts Paige.

The audience rises to their feet, hugging each other. Toby saw a similar reaction on a talk show, where Oprah was giving away free things. He really hopes she didn't steal them.

Craig falls to the knees in the snow.

"Ruined...I'm ruined," he says.

The figure places a cold hand on his shoulder.

"Spirit, who is...who is the man that brings such hate in so many people's hearts?" asks Craig. "Who is the man that brought about my destruction? My home, my business! Who is to blame for this?"

The figure helps Craig to his feet, presenting him with a small piece of paper. It's an obituary. Toby and J.T. go closer so they can read.

"Mob Murders Man in Music Store. Early January. Sean Cameron tried to save...store destroyed with man beaten to date by burgulars. Security system failed...I dare not read the name," stammers Craig, paper shaking in his hands.

Craig forces his eyes to rise, instinctively shifting to the marker nearest them. The figure points at the marker.

"No...no," whispers Craig.

Dropping to his knees for a second name, Craig grabs at the figure's cloak. His tears shine in the dimming moonlight.

"DonÕt let it be...," says Craig. "Oh, spirit, I promise. I promise not to break any more hearts by being a super, rock stud, a heartthrob without a heart. I promise to help the tone-deaf teens and kids of Toronto. Oh, I will honor the lessons you've so graciously given me. I will honor Christmas and keep it alive in my heart all year long."

The words receive no reply, Craig crawling to the marker, the snow's wetness soaking through his designer pajamas. His hands still shake as he wipes the frost, so slowly from the marker to view the occupant of the grave.

"Craig Manning," sobs the bearer of that name.

"Oh, good...I thought it was Rick," sighs Toby.

"I wouldn't do that to you, Tobes," says J.T.

"Thanks, man," says Toby. "I can't take any more nightmares."

"Craig was living a nightmare," says J.T., cleverly jumping back into the story. "He was seeing the results of his greed and heartlessness firsthand. He shrunk in the darkness, his organs pumping soundly, his skin prickling. Why didn't he heed the words of the people who cared for him? This couldn't be his fate, could it?"

"I will change...I will!" cries Craig.

"Will you?" says a gentle voice from under the hood.

Craig stares at the spirit, manages to get up.

"Who are you?" he asks.

"The writer of your obituary," replies the spirit.

He quickly checks for the author's name of the article and the obituary, gasps.

"Ellie, you wrote my obituary?" exclaims Craig.

She lowers her hood, red, bountiful hair falling down. She tucks some hair behind her ears, shrugs.

"Well, no one else wanted to," informs Ellie. "My editor wanted to make your death a national holiday."

"Whoa," breathes Craig.

He reads the obituary, scrunches up his face. Ellie had managed to fit in some not so glamorous stuff, including his stint in rehab and his lack of a high school diploma.

"Bitter much?" he says.

"Hmm, I wonder why?" returns Ellie, folding her arms.

"Oh...um...right," murmurs Craig.

"Yeah!" cries Ellie. "Oh...um..._right_."

"The coke thing," whispers Craig to himself, then louder. "Well...if it helps, I'm clean now!"

"Craig, it's whatev, okay?" says Ellie. "All I care about...we care about is that you stop acting like a male Hatzilakos and do some good in this world. Or at least where you live."

"We can't all be Marco," says Craig, defensively.

"No one's asking you to be," affirms Ellie. "You...just have to use your heart. I know it's there somewhere."

Craig kneels to the ground, tears no longer lining his eyes. His whole face has gone pale and to Toby, Craig has never looked so small. In the distance, they hear an owl hooting the rhythm of a clock, a sound made for every hour that's passed on their long and strange journey.

"Remember, Craig," says Ellie. "Remember."

Her voice gets softer and softer, and Toby can feel his whole body lifting, the cemetary shrinking in size. The sky goes from midnight blue to white, the markers start to disappear, and J.T. takes Toby's arm. Craig dizzily goes to a spot next to him, though apparently they're still invisible as he gives them no recognition.

Everything becomes pitch-black as if the three of them are in a tunnel. Ellie, in her black robe, is no longer present. Something is sucking them in, to another atmosphere. Craig, J.T., and Toby stumble backwards, landing on a clean, carpeted floor. Craig touches the carpet.

"I'm...I'm not dead!" cries Craig, joyfully. "I'm home!"

"Indeed, he was," narrates J.T. "The curtains and bed were the same. The TV was the same. Only the enthusiastic man was different. He knew he had a second chance."

"The spirits did it all in one night...I'm here!"exclaims Craig, doing the Cabbage Patch. "The spirits can party! Party!"

"Okay, some musicians can't dance," observes J.T.

"I didn't disappear like Terri McGreggor," sighs Craig, dropping to the carpet. "Thank you Manny, Spin, and Ellie! Thank you for making me less emo!"

"How long will that last?" mumbles Toby.

"I have to do good...now's the time," affirms Craig. "I can't keep waiting..._waiting on the world to change_."

Craig whistles under his breath, throws open his window. Sunlight streams into his beautiful room and Craig closes his eyes in elation. The rays rest on his chest. J.T. and Toby go to each of Craig's side. The view is nice. Snow wasn't making driving difficult, the roads and driveways clear; children slid on sleds in their backyards; Derek and Danny were pelting each other with yellow snowballs. Toby didn't want to know why they were yellow.

"You there...boys!" yells Craig.

"What, fool?" shouts Danny.

"What day is today?" says Craig.

"Christmas, man. Who that?" answers Danny.

"A man who wishes to be more humble," returns Craig.

"That voice sounds vaguely...ah, it's Manning!" exclaims Derek. "Run!"

Before they're able to take off, Craig grabs a wad of cash from under his mattress, throws them at the boys' feet.

"You off your meds?" yells Danny.

"Nah, man," insists Craig. "I'm going to toss you some addresses. I need these people to meet me at the community center at noon. The money's for your hard work."

Danny and Derek glance at one another, then nod enthusiastically at Craig. Craig scurries to write down the names and addresses. He assesses the list for a few, then makes a paper airplane, throwing it to Derek. They run to perform their job.

"Oh, won't Jack be surprised," says Craig, clapping his hands. "But first...first, I must get a UHaul."

"Is he moving?" asks Toby.

"Let's see," says J.T.

Craig grabs a red sweater, a pair of black jeans, and white socks and retreats to his bathroom. Yeah, not following him in there, thinks Toby.

"Uh, we'll wait outside," suggests J.T., clearly on the same wavelength.

II.

It's a full hour before Craig reappears, whistling as he locks his front door. Toby and J.T., sitting on the hood of a car next door, lazily get up and walk alongside him. Craig whistles, and Toby detects that his pockets are fuller. Crossing a few streets, Toby's sure they're going somewhere with a purpose. Laughing children eating candy canes they took from their trees run past them on their way.

"Watch the ice!" cautions Craig, grinning at them.

"Ah!" cries the tallest boy. "He wants something!"

"Don't steal my candy," moans the youngest girl.

They race to get as far away as possible. Craig purses his lips together in confusion, moves on. Their walk comes to a standstill when they see two familiar faces.

"Marco! Darcy!" greets Craig.

Both appear shaken as Craig approaches. Marco grips his cross necklace, while Darcy turns around and prays.

"Dear God," says Darcy softly. "Please don't let us get hurt on Christmas. I'm pretty sure you blessed me with new ski boots from my parents. I'd like to live to use them."

Craig turns Darcy around and gives Marco a reassuring pat.

"You guys asked me to contribute to the music fund?" reminds Craig. "Put me down for a thousand, and there will be follow-up payments, I guarantee you."

"Craig...Craig, really?" gasps Marco.

Darcy smiles. "The kids really need it."

"I'm sure," says Craig. "Merry Christmas to you, both."

"Merry Christmas!" cry Marco and Darcy. "And a happy New Year!"

"It's a new year, indeed," says Craig, smiling from ear to ear.

Craig removes a cellphone from the inside of his coat, starts to dial. He releases a sigh of relief when the other person picks up.

"Is this Tokyo Palace?" says Craig. "Good. I thought you guys were open today. I need a large quantity of your best food to feed dozens. Cost is no object. Chicken fried rice, General Tso chicken, bok choy, all the big dishes. Have it delivered to Degrassi Community Center."

After giving more specific directions, Craig closes the phone, practically skipping to the center less than half a mile away. Toby is about to say how spritely he appears, but can't bring himself to use such a weird word.

They enter the center, rubbing their hands together to get some heat.

"How fortunate!" remarks Craig, spotting a person he viewed during that fateful night.

Neil's mom tugs at the boy's ear, lecturing him on leaving his bookbag at the center, a scheme to get out of his pre-school homework.

"Excuse me, miss," says Craig as she lets his ear go. "Are you on the board of the community center?"

"Yes. What business of it is yours?" she says.

"I'd like to buy this community center," informs Craig. "Spruce the programs up. Redo any rooms that require repair. Help make committee decisions."

"You're Craig Manning!" she recognizes. "Why would you waste your time on our community center? Aren't you touring...recording...partying?"

"That's not as important as doing something for my community," insists Craig. "So?"

"Well, I can't turn away money," says Neil's mom, beaming. "Fine? And what can we do for you in return?"

"Hire Ashley Kerwin again," says Craig. "Look, this place totally benefits from her passion and commitment. She's a better musician than I am. Deal?"

Neil's mom cocks her head to the side, considering the bargain. Thankfully, she smiles.

"Tell her to come on Monday, and enjoy the holiday weekend," she says.

Craig hugs her, causing her to yelp in surprise.

"Stop hugging my mom, pervert!" shouts Neil, kicking Craig's ankle.

Moaning from the pain, Craig manages to keep his happy expression, waves good-bye to them as he clumsily goes to a corner. Toby can tell he's about to dial someone else.

"Hello?" says Craig. "Coach Armstrong? I hope I didn't wake up. Yeah, I used to watch the Kid Elrick Christmas special, too. Listen, I remember you said you had a UHaul in your garage since your son is leaving for college tomorrow? Could I possibly use it for the day? There won't be a scratch on it...I promise...wow, thanks!"

He folds his phone, exits the community center. Toby checks his watch. Ten o' clock. Well, Craig didn't have a lot of time if he really was meeting these folks at noon.

III.

Rather than follow Craig, for the first time, J.T. and Toby stay behind. In the passing minutes, they were playing their usual game.

"I'd date Hazel, propose to Manny, and marry Emma," says Toby, counting them off on his fingers. "You?"

"I'd date Ashley, propose to Paige, and marry Liberty," replies J.T.

"My sister?" exclaims Toby, pushing J.T. lightly.

"Hey, she's hot," defends J.T. "At least, we chose different girls. Ugh, when is Craig going to get here. I can't narrate without him."

"So you don't know what's happening?" asks Toby.

"No, I do," says J.T. "I just can't without him. Hmmm, I think I hear footsteps."

Toby raises his eyebrows when he sees the owner of the feet, or rather the owners. Clad in scarves, coats, and earmuffs, Sean, Emma, and Jack come inside the lobby, looking around in confusion. They're followed by a smiling Manny in pink winter clothes, and a skeptical Ellie in black.

"Why are you guys here?" asks Emma.

"Beats me," replies Manny. "Danny and Derek told us it was crucial that we be here. I hope it doesn't last too long. They're airing the only Christmas movie I like..._Cheerleaders Save Christmas_."

"How could a cheerleader save Christmas?" says Ellie. "What, do they beat up the Grinch with their pom-poms?"

"Yeah," says Manny, quietly.

Their conversation ends as more people funnel into the lobby-- Jimmy, Hazel, Spinner, Paige, Liberty, a few kids in Jack's class including Neil and his mother, a couple center staff members, and as if she was debating to come in before actually doing so, Ashley. Ashley protectively wraps her blue coat tighter around her frame.

"We're all here," says J.T., pumping his arm in the air. "Let's get this party started.Ó

"A party?" says Toby.

J.T. provides him with no reply, opening the doors to the auditorium of the center, taking his top hat and bowing. No one dares to question why the doors magically open, but they funnel in, making comments of awe.

Toby's tempted to do the same as he views a long table, bigger than the floor space of his room, with plates and utensils nicely arranged. Every type of Asian dish is presented on a gold tablecloth, and they wordlessly take their seats after reading the namecards set before each chair.

"In five...four...three...two...one," counts off J.T.

After the countdown, the red curtain of the stage parts, revealing Craig among many of the instruments obtained from his store. There were clarinets, their bells gleaming; drums with the most beautiful sheen; two keyboards with unplayed keys; three guitars with fresh strings. Toby's kind of hoping it's an auction because he'd love to hear Craig do that really fast voice. He chuckles to himself.

"It's all yours!" exclaims Craig. "Percussion, winds, and anything else that you require to make this music program the very best!"

Everyone gasps, looking at each other as if they're in a delusion. Only Ashley beams, doesn't seem the least bit startled. A calm, serene smile inhabits her face and that of Jack's. Rather than wait for them to say anything, Craig grabs a drum and a small item from the bounty, goes straight to the table.

"A new drum for Neil!" announces Craig, setting it by the boy's feet.

"Killer! Thanks, dude!" says Neil, his mom hugging him.

"And for Jack...," begins Craig.

Jack has a spoon in his mouth, takes it out when his name is said. Craig crouches by him.

"Don't ever stop singing," says Craig. "Now, this...this is a metronome. It tells you if your pitch is off. I'm going to be there until the little hand is in the middle, saying your pitch is perfect."

The boy gently takes the metronome, tries to stuff it in his mouth.

"No, Jack!" cries Emma. "Take that out of your mouth."

He does, assesses it and grins. "Thank you, Craig."

"Awww," says anyone.

"All that matters is that you sing from your heart," says Craig, saying that oh so familiar Jack maxim.

"Am I going to be a musician like you?" asks Jack.

Craig says nothing, instead taking Jack's tiny hand, leading him to the stage. Emma grabs Sean's arm.

"Manning's Music is closing in the new year," announces Craig.

Sean's face falls, and Toby can detect a visible lump in his throat.

"Instead, we're opening the new and improved Jeremiah Motors, with Sean Cameron as the owner. It will be a customs car shop, and I strongly urge you all to do business with him, because he's unflinchingly loyal and kind," finishes Craig.

The crowd applauds, Sean's cheeks going red as Emma hugs him. Even Ellie claps loudly.

"Craig, what gotten into you?" asks Jimmy, the only one bold to say such a thing.

"Realizing that I really didn't like the person I've become," says Craig. "If I have to lose things to gain what I want most, then so be it. I'd rather have your friendships than anything else. Especially yours, Jimmy."

"Bro, you have it," says Jimmy, the other members of the Squatch nodding in agreement.

"Christmas is a time for music, so I want all of us to sit back and relax as Jack honors us with a song," says Craig.

The applause halts, everyone looking at Craig in disbelief. Neil makes a barfing sound, and receives a light tap on the head from his mother.

"I can't be like you," whispers Jack. "They won't like it."

"_We could've been anything that we wanted to be,"_ sings Craig to Jack. "_And it's not too late to change. We'd be delighted to give it some thought..."_

Craig pauses as Jack's countenance contains the largest grin Toby's ever seen. Toby can feel his heart soften, and apparently he's not the only one as the group exchanges pleased expressions.

"_We could've been anything that we wanted to be," _sings Ashley, standing. "_Yeah, that decision was ours. It's been decided, we're weaker divided..."_

She walks slowly to the stage, smiling shyly at Craig and going behind the keyboard to play the melody.

"_Let friendship double up our powers,"_ finishes Ashley.

"_You give a little love and it all comes back to you_," sings Craig to Ashley, than staring at Jack. "_You know you're gonna be remembered for the things you say and do."_

"_La la la la la la la_," sings Jack, bouncing up and down with glee.

The crowd laughs, clapping to the beat of the song, keyboard supporting their voices.

"_You give a little love and it all comes back to you," _sings Craig as he and Jack leave the stage and rejoin the group, now standing.

"_La la la la la la la," _provides Jack, the out of tune voice more tolerable to Toby, to them all.

"_You're going to be remembered for the things you say and do_," encourages Emma.

"_La la la la la la_," sings everyone. "_You give a little love and it all comes back to you..._"

The song continues as Sean walks to Craig, embraces him, thanks him for the opportunity.

"To Jack, Craig was like a second father, instructing him in what music should wind up on those kitschy VH1 specials and what music should be played on the radio," narrates J.T. over the music. "Craig honored all his commitments from this day forward. Let it truly be said that Craig always knew how to keep the spirit of Christmas in his heart not just today, but everyday."

"Great story, man," says Toby, high-fiving J.T.

The high-five illicits a shiver from the both of them. J.T. laughs heartily.

"No longer invisible," explains J.T.

"Yes, people know I'm here!" says Toby.

"My work is done," breathes J.T. "Oh, well. Time to sing, then eat. Now, where is Liberty?"

_"You give a little love and it all comes back to you," _sings J.T. and Toby, sitting at the table.

Craig is at the head of the fast, pulling out a chair for Jack, who sits at his right. Sean was at his left, instead chooses to let Ashley sit there instead as she leaves the keyboard. Craig squeezes AshleyÕ' hand after she folds her napkin, sets it on her lap.

"I wish I had someone this Christmas," whispers Toby to J.T.

"Hi," says a voice to his left. "Have you ever been to the center before?"

Toby's eyes bug out as he takes in the sight of a pretty, black-haired girl with an olive complexion.

"I'm Nora... I go to Lakehurst," she says.

"Toby," he says. "Uh, from Degrassi?"

"Degrassi? Cool," says Nora. "There's always something exciting happening at that school. I'm so jealous."

"Yeah," says Toby, shyly, then whispering to J.T. "Thanks."

"No prob," says J.T., his arm around Liberty. "And for the big line at the end of the play, as Jack would say..."

"God Bless Emma, then everyone else," say Jack and Craig, raising a glass in the air.

"God Bless Emma, then everyone else," repeats the crowd.

"I hope I don't get detention for plagiarism," whispers J.T. to Toby. "This tale is kinda well-known. Oh, well. It'll be one of those issues that we all have to go through."

Toby sighs. "Ain't that the truth. Well, whatever it takes."

**Author's Note: Sorry for the long wait. A Christmas fic being finished in April? :P But it's done finally. **

**Music Credits:**

**Waiting on the World to Change is the property of John Mayer.**

**Awesome Lover and The Hardest Part of Breaking Up (Is Getting Back Your Stuff) is the property of 2Gether/MTV.**

**Love Don't Cost A Thing is the property of Jennifer Lopez.**

**You Give A Little Love is the property of the play/ movie **_**Bugsy Malone. **_

None of these songs are mine, and you may recognize the last song from the Coca-Cola commercials. ;) Thanks!


End file.
